


18

by mama_angst



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blowjobs, Consensual, Consensual Sex, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Slurs, Travis centric, except it's not, my contribution, there is not enough Larry/Travis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2020-05-15 16:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19299859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mama_angst/pseuds/mama_angst
Summary: So if you wanna piss off your parents,Date me to scare them,Show them you're all grown up,If long hair and tattoos are what attract you,Baby, then you're in luck._______Travis decides that he's gonna fake date Larry Johnson.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since the first time I heard this song, I knew I had to write a fic based on it. I hope you guys enjoy!!  
> Stay fresh, my friends!!

This was crazy. Crazy stupid. Super fucking insane, really. 

Travis was trembling as he stood in front of the apartment complex, his teeth worrying at his already busted lip, the dull ache from the bruise on his cheek bone keeping him at attention. This was batshit. 

Addison Apartments was a shitheap, filled with the worst kind of people. Drug addicts, drunks, and other unsavory folks - not to mention those morons from his highschool.   
Travis never would have imagined that he would be coming here, not during his school years, and sure as hell not after graduation. And yet, here he was. 

The blond picks at the hem of his pale pink sweater, looking down at himself. He’s wearing skinny, skinny jeans, the ones his father despised, and his white sneakers. Today, Travis had to make sure he looked good. He had to look good enough to make that fucking moron want him. 

As he walked inside the dingy, dirty lobby, Travis grimaces a little, wiping his hands on his sweater again. This plan was insane. In-sane. 

It’d come from a fight with his father, yet another one that’d left him bleeding and bruised, soul and skin. The memory was still vivid and pressed into his mind. 

A kick to the ribs, a wheeze for breath.   
“Get up, faggot.” Came that sneering snarl, and Travis can hear the smirk on his father’s lips.   
“No one is going to protect you but yourself. What are you waiting for? Huh? You have no one. No one wants you. No woman. No man. You’re an unwanted abomination, Travis Phelps.” 

Those words rang in his ears as Travis stepped further into the apartment complex, and he shudders, like he was trying to chase away the thoughts, heading for the elevator. His eyes are trained on the scuffed, scratched, split wooden boards as he listens, he can hear some sounds from behind the well worn doors, and for a moment, he wonders about the rest of the crazy people that lived in this building. His mind wanders as he presses the shattered elevator call button, and a bruised knuckled hand cards through the bleach blond hair. 

He needs to calm down. His stomach, though, is churning with anxiety. What if this didn’t work? What if he was laughed out of this apartment complex? Shit, now he was gonna be sick.   
He tugs sharply at his bangs when the elevator doors slide open, and he jumps a little when he finds it already occupied.   
A woman stands there, a little older, wrinkles adorning her kind looking face. She seems tired, but she’s wearing coveralls, hanging onto a mop handle and pushing a custodial bucket. She steps out of the elevator, and the doors slide shut behind her.   
She stares at him, cocking a brow. Does… she know him? 

“Travis…? Travis Phelps?” 

Ah. Fuck. 

“Yes, ma’am. And… You are?” He stammers. 

“Lisa Johnson. You went to high school with my boys, didn’t you? Sally and Larry?” The woman gives him a warm, friendly smile, and Travis wants to fucking scream. 

“Oh… Yeah, I did. I… Wasn’t very nice to them, but I’m kind of hoping to mend the relationships, you know? Uhm… Do you know where I might be able to find Larry? I wanted to talk to him.” He manages to keep the waver out of his voice, his hands shoved into his pockets. 

Lisa looks him over briefly, as if she knew how many times Larry had decked him, how many times he himself had punched Sal. He wonders for a moment if she did know. After all, she’d known his face, and his name. Fuck. He feels his hands start shaking again. 

“You know, we’ve been to your father’s church a few times, for holiday services. He’s rather a severe man, isn’t he?” Lisa asks, and Travis is shaken to his core when her hand comes up to cup his cheek, running her thumb over the fading bruise beneath his eye. It’s so gentle, so motherly, and for a moment, Travis is actually dizzy. When was the last time he’d had hands on him that didn’t want to hurt him?   
He feels the pricking behind his eyes, and he has to pull away to avoid crying right then and there. 

“Uh… Yeah, he can be a little intense.” He whispers softly, and Lisa smiles gently. 

 

“Larry is in the basement. Here, let me use my keycard to get you down there.” She turns, pushing the elevator button. The doors open right away, and Travis steps in, watching as she leans in and inserts the card into the slot at the bottom of the console, and she presses the basement button before stepping out of the elevator. 

“Have fun, dear.” She waves, and that motherly smile makes his heart twist, and he can’t help but wave back as the doors shut and the descent starts.   
Fuck. There’s no turning back now. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit!!!

The elevator creaks to a halt, and a sharp ding sounds as the doors slide open.   
He’s in a laundry room, as he steps out, and he looks around, frowning a little at the sound of loud, horrendous, obnoxious music coming from a door at the end up the hall. Holy….  
He’d forgotten that Johnson was a metalhead. Well, no, he hadn’t, he’d really just forgotten how loud metal music actually was. He grimaces, but continues on until he’s right in front of the door, and the music is actually rattling the whole doorframe.   
His heart flips over and over in his chest, and he wonders if he’s making the right choice. He can’t back off now. 

Travis raises a hand, knocking sharply on the door, his stomach feeling like it was flipping inside out.   
No answer. 

He sighs, and tries again, pounding on the door this time. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe he should run, maybe-

The door swings open, and Travis swears he’s having a fucking heart attack. 

In the doorway stands the greasiest, grubbiest, most fucking beautiful man he’s ever seen. Tall, taller than average, but no longer scrawny and scraggly. Johnson has obviously been working out, from what Travis could see. That muscle tank was doing him all kinds of favors, showing off the hefty arms, the beautiful tattoos that sprawled down his right arm, shoulder to elbow. Demons with skeletal faces, claw marks, all kinds of shadowy figures. It was impressive, and insanely distracting. The metalhead wore a pair of black jeans that were torn to shit, revealing the caramel skin beneath. His feet were bare, and Travis looks back up at his face, meeting his eyes. His face is twisted into a scowl, but there’s surprise in those brown hues. The gap between his two front teeth, the scruff on his jaw, his beaky nose -   
It’s been quiet for too long. 

“Phelps.” Larry speaks, his voice rough, strained. 

“Johnson.” Travis isn’t proud of the way his own voice wavers. 

“The fuck do you want? I thought we’d finally gotten rid of you when we graduated.” There’s venom in Larry’s voice, and Travis can’t help but sneer at him. The blond opens his mouth to speak, but suddenly, there’s someone behind Larry, and Travis shouldn’t be surprised the two still spend time together. Larry’s mother had said Larry and Sally, hadn’t she?

Sal stands just behind Larry, but nudges the taller boy out of the way, his eyes wide and curious behind that mask.   
He’s still small, skinny as a rail, his blue hair down instead of up in pigtails anymore. 

“Travis, what are you doing here?” Sal asks, and Travis begins to feel anxious and overwhelmed, the music still blaring behind them.   
“Larry, go turn it down, come on, Trav, come inside.” 

Travis is a little surprised that Larry actually turns, heading inside the apartment, and a moment later, the music goes off, leaving them in silence. 

Sal beckons to the blond as he steps back across the threshold, and Travis feels compelled to follow him inside. He drags his feet just briefly, taking a shaky breath. Sal closes the door behind Travis, and Larry moves back to the pair. 

“So… What’s going on? You’ve got bruises, is… Is your dad still hitting you?” The blue haired boy asks, and Travis sighs, trying to get himself steady and tough again. 

“Yeah. That’s why I’m here. I need to talk to Larry. Alone, preferably.” He clears his throat, and Larry and Sal exchange a look. 

“Yeah, no. I don’t think so.” Larry replies, shaking his head. “Sal isn’t going anywhere. I don’t want you to try to fucking murder me - not that I couldn’t take your skinny ass in a fight.” 

Travis groans softly, rubbing his eyes and hissing softly. 

“Fuckin…. Fine.” He huffs, looking up at Larry, trying to ignore the presence of the third in the room as he focuses solely the musclebound metalhead. 

“I need you to pretend to date me so I can prove to my father that I’m a fucking adult.” 

The words tumble out of his mouth, and he’s a little startled by the intensity, but suddenly, he feels like a fucking idiot. His eyes drop to his sneakers, his cheeks burning furiously. Oh, god. He was going to get thrown out of here. Or worse, he’s going to throw up. Fuck, is the room spinning? 

“Alright.” 

The answer shocks him, eyes flicking up immediately to meet Larry’s. He’s nonchalant, at ease, and he just shrugs. 

Sal is staring between the two, absolutely dumbfounded.   
“Wait, you.. You’re gonna actually do it?” He asks. 

“Well, yeah. Why the fuck not? I fuckin hate that preacher, and I hate people who beat up their kids. What, you don’t think I’ll be a good fake boyfriend?” Larry smirks, and Travis’ heart seizes up in his chest. Son of a bitch. 

“He’s terrified of you. Both of you guys. But mostly Larry.” The blond replies, and Sally makes a sound like a dying cat, wheezing with laughter as he doubles over. Larry snickers a little, and Travis can’t help but crack a small grin. 

“Well, fine. Cool. I can live with that. The more I get to scare him.” Larry stretches his arms over his head, his shoulders popping.   
Travis swallows hard, nodding.  
“Okay. Cool.” 

Sal is silent now, looking between the two before he looks down at his watch, checking the time. 

“I… Think I should go now. You two...Talk this out. Text me later, Larry.” The blue haired boy says, and Travis can hear the laughter in his voice as he heads for the door. When it shuts and he’s gone, the two are left to stare at each other. 

“Guess we better set some limits. C’mon.” Larry motions him to follow, and the brunet turns, heading for a room set off the living room. A large “KEEP OUT” sign adorned the door, very fitting for the standoffish attitude that Larry fashioned for himself. He led Travis into the room, and immediately dropped into a beanbag on the floor.   
Travis, however, hovered in the doorway, looking around curiously. 

There were paintings on the walls, beautiful, hyperrealistic, incredibly impressive. The rest of the room, though, is a teenage nightmare. Posters from the metal bands that he obviously listened to, his bed unmade, the laundry hamper overflowing.   
Cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air, and Travis looks over, watching as Larry lights up, taking a long drag and letting the smoke curl from his lips. 

“So.” Larry hums, and Travis makes his way over, carefully sitting down a respectful distance away from the taller boy. 

“So.” He echoes.

“Ground rules. What do you or don’t you want me to do?” Truth be told, Travis is a little shocked that Larry is actually being so cool about all of this. 

“Uh…” He’s not thought this through at all. He’d not even expected Larry to say yes to his absolutely ridiculous request. What did he want?

“Do you want me to hold your hand? Hug you? Kiss you?” Larry’s head lolled back on his shoulders as he draws his tongue over his lower lip, a smirk playing there.   
“Fuck you?” 

Travis is absolutely thrown for a loop.   
“Uh…” He takes a shaky breath.   
“This is fake. It’s not real dating, you know that, right?” 

“I fuckin know, you little creep.” Larry has the gall to laugh at him, and Travis blushes, resisting the urge to hit him, so he settles for kicking him in the shin instead. 

“Ow! Hey, I was just offering! I mean, what if your dad walked in on us, huh? That would sell it pretty well. And if we act out in public, word will spread.” Larry shrugs vaguely, and Travis sighs. 

 

“Yeah… Okay. Yes. All of it.” He swallows hard. “Including the fucking.” 

“Oh, shit, seriously?” Larry suddenly sits upright, cocking his head a little. 

“Yeah? Why, were you not?” Travis hesitates, feeling stupid. Larry shakes his head, taking another drag from the cigarette. 

“No, I was. You know, the whole… No feelings thing? It’ll be nice. Blow off some steam together.” He offers the blond the cigarette, and he takes it. He’s not sure why, he doesn’t smoke, but he inhales, immediately choking on the smoke on his lungs and coughing like a dork. 

“Yeah.” Travis wheezes, hacking for a moment.   
“Yeah. No feelings.” 

Why did he feel like that was going to be a struggle for him? He’d never fucked anyone before, why should he have to have feelings for someone to do it? 

He can already imagine the look on his father’s face, walking into Travis’ bedroom while he and Larry were going at it -   
Yup. This was gonna be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!! Just a warning, this chapter contains some homophobic slurs, trauma, and graphic depictions of abuse!! Use caution!!

“Can you fucking hurry up?” 

“If you stopped moving, I would have been done by now.” 

Travis grunts unhappily, biting down on his lip hard as Larry resumes his work, which, at this moment, was sucking a few dark bruises into Travis’s soft, pale skin. It was all for show, of course, but Travis was really struggling to not have a fucking anyeurism. The way the other boy’s stubble scratched against his throat, the way his hands were holding his shoulders to keep him steady, it was about to drive him nuts.   
There was nothing really intimate about this, it was just giving Travis a couple of marks to show off, so his father would know that he was bullshit. 

They’d been “dating” for a whole week, which was really just Travis spending a lot more time with Sal and Larry, and much less with his father.   
This idea, however, had been all Larry’s. When Travis had come over with fresh bruises on his cheeks, there’d been a look in Lar’s eye, and then he’d suggested this. So here they were, awkwardly positioned on the couch so that there wasn’t too much touching (despite the fact that Travis wouldn’t have minded being in Larry’s lap, and - unbeknownst to him - Larry would have been more than fine with the blond being that close). 

“There.” Larry pulls back, wiping his mouth, then Travis’ neck free of his spit. He eyes his work with a proud smirk as he draws his thumb nail across his lower lip, and the blond boy has to fight off the very, very real urge to punch the other man right in his damn beautiful face. 

“Are they…” He doesn’t even know what he wants to say, his brain is a little fried.   
And fuck Larry Johnson, because he absolutely knows it. 

“Yeah, they’re pretty big. Your dad is gonna notice.” He turns, sitting on the couch normally, just staring at Travis for a moment.   
“Hey… Don’t think i’m a dick for asking - you think I’m a dick anyway, what’s the point - anyway… Why are you doing this fake dating shit if your dad is just gonna kick the shit out of you for it?” 

“I don’t… Nevermind, I do.” Travis snaps back, but he hesitates, looking down at his lap for a moment.   
“My dad… He hates me, right. And… He always says that no one wants me, or will ever want me, so if i can show off that I’ve got someone, he might feel a little stupid. And I live to make my dad look like an ass.” He clears his throat, hazarding a glance up at Larry, who is just staring blankly at him, like he could see through him, into his brain, into his fragile, bruised heart. He takes a deep breath, but without warning, Larry is lunging forward, crushing his lips to Travis’s in a searing kiss. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut, the wind knocked out of him, and as soon as he’s getting to enjoy it, the brunet has pulled back, leaving him to flounder for thought. 

“There. You can tell him you were making out with your boyfriend.” Larry replies, looking as easy and laid back as ever as he pulled out his phone, reclining on the couch and throwing his feet across Travis’ thighs.   
Travis just stares at him like he’s fucking nuts, his fingers raising to brush over his lips, feeling the phantom tingle there. Holy shit.

It’s silent for a while, Larry playing on his phone, and Travis with his head laid back, eyes closed as he felt the peace of being safe, and with someone who didn’t intend on hurting him. He was okay. 

Thoughts were bustling around his head, though. Too many, too loud, too much.   
Why was Larry really doing this? Was it just to piss off his dad? Was he planning on getting back at Travis for all the shit he’d done to them in high school? He’d never brought that up or thrown it in his face - he can only assume that’s coming.   
Was he just a warm body for Larry? Fuck, of course he was. Moron, that’s what Travis had told him when they’d started this. That there weren’t going to be any feelings.   
Fucking stupid. 

Travis can’t help but feel like an idiot. He’d thought he’d be okay - after graduation, he’d assumed that he’d be adult enough to approach the guy he’d had a massive crush on during high school, pitch to him that they make out and fuck for fun. That was the stupidest shit. 

Larry was so high above him. He was so much better than him, and Travis was like… trash. He was an asshole with a deathwish, obviously. Fuck everything. 

“Did you and Sal date?” Travis asks suddenly, looking over at Larry. The man has just finished pulling his unruly hair into a bun, and he cocks a brow. 

 

“No. Never dated. I was his first kiss, though.” He shrugs vaguely, picking up his phone again. 

“You ever dated a guy before?” 

The question cuts at Travis, and he scoffs on instinct.   
“No.” Too much venom. “No, never dated. I just… Made out with someone in the locker rooms a few times.” That wasn’t a happy story. That wasn’t a good one, at all, and he’s sure that Larry remembers the way that one ended. The whole school probably did. 

“s’That the guy who…?” Larry starts, surprisingly delicate.

“Dragged me out of the locker room in my underwear and told everyone i was a faggot? Yeah.” Travis mutters, looking down. It’d been horrendously traumatizing for him. 

It was innocent enough. The guy, his name had been Michael, he’d been hot. Like, a proper Adonis. He was beautiful, his hands had been soft and gentle, his lips persistent, and at the time, Travis had thought he’d been kind. It wasn’t that way, though, was it? It never was.   
It was just like the ten other times they’d done this, hot and sweet, just kisses and touching, groping like ridiculous teenagers.   
Up against the lockers in a secluded area of the locker room, back where people would have to be looking for them. It was public enough to make Travis’ blood rush in his ears.   
“You’re so pretty, Travis.” Michael had growled at him, and the blond boy’s heart had fluttered. 

“Y-You think so?” He’d whispered back, and Michael had pulled away, and the look on his face had been… Evil. Demonic. And his heart sank to his toes. 

“I do. And I think everyone should see you for what you really are.” And like that, with those toned, athletic arms had him restricted and restrained, and as he’s dragged to the doors that led into the gym, Travis screamed. That gym was full of students, and Travis was in his underwear. Well… now he understood why Michael had left his gym shorts and tee shirt on. 

He sort of… blacked out for a moment when he was dragged into the gymnasium and dropped on his ass. There had to be at least fifty people there, all eyes on him as Michael shouted.   
“This fucking fag, he was trying to get his disgusting hands all over me!” 

The words made his blood run cold, and as he sat there, Travis couldn’t help but look around at the faces of his peers. Blurs. Unknowns. Disgust. Fear. Sadness.   
His eyes track to a flash of bright blue, and there’s Sally Face, with his group of freaks. The two girls, Ashley and Maple - don’t ask him how he remembered their names - stared at him, but not in disgust. The brunette looked furious, like she was about to run at Michael and choke him out, but she was held back by the ginger kid, Todd.   
And there was the green haired kid, Chug... ? Weird.   
But Sal, with his mask on, unreadable, but Larry, standing beside him, looked like he might spontaneously combust. He looked even angrier than Ashley. 

It took too long for the teachers to break up the catastrophic sight, and when they did, they sent Travis home.   
They also called his father and told him everything. 

And that was the worst beating he’d ever gotten. 

“Hey, Travis? You in there?” The voice that shook him back to the surface didn’t belong to Michael, or his father.   
There were hands cupping his face, almost tenderly, no intent to injure him.   
He pried open his eyes, only to meet Larry’s. He was concerned, soft, and that scared the shit out of him. 

“Huh?” He mumbles lightly, blinking blearily up at him. 

“You zoned out. Weren’t really… responding.” He mumbles, releasing him after a moment.   
“You went back there, huh? In your mind?”

Travis nods slightly, rubbing his eyes as he lays back against the couch.   
“Yeah. I haven’t… thought about that in a while. I was just thinking… How pissed you and your friends were. And… I thought you were pissed at me. Or maybe you’d thought I deserved that.” 

Larry’s nose wrinkled up in a sneer of disgust, and he shakes his head.   
“No one deserves that. You might have been a royal shitbag, and an asshole, and a fucking dick-” 

“Do you have a point you’re building up to?” Travis grunted. 

“Yeah. I never would have wished that on you. I wanted to rip that guy to shreds. And Ash and I did, after the fact. He transferred schools after we dislocated his shoulder and, you know. Broke his nose.” Larry shrugged, and Travis can’t help but smile. 

“Oh… You know, friends usually do that. For each other. So you’re telling me, in high school, you liked me a little bit.” Or he felt sorry for you.

“.... A little.” 

That admission actually makes Travis kind of warm inside, and he grins, letting his head fall back against the couch cushions.   
It’s quiet for a while after that, just the two of them lounging on the couch, and when Larry lights a cigarette, he passes it to Travis first, letting him take a drag. He’s getting better at not hacking and choking on the smoke, letting it curl out over his lips. 

Larry takes it back, setting it between his lips and picking up his phone again. He reads a message, then he’s moving, pulling himself up and off the couch, stretching his arms up and over his head. 

“Where are you going?” Travis asks, standing as well, plucking the cigarette from between his lips and tucking in his own. 

“Ash ‘n Sal are at the diner up the street. You hungry?” Larry hums, watching the boy as he smoothed a hand over his wrinkled shirt. He cocks a brow, eyeing him. 

“Yeah, I could eat. C’mon.” He makes for the door, but suddenly, Larry is on him, shoving him against the wall and latching his lips onto his throat, kissing and sucking hotly. Travis’ last brain cell screams at him to get the cigarette out of his mouth and away from the other.   
This was different from earlier, not utility, this was heat and excitement, this was… So good. Travis can’t help the shaky breath that leaves him.   
“Lar…” He whines softly, but the other is much too focused on his work, his tongue laving over the previously unmarked flesh of his throat, nipping and sucking at it harshly, marking him up. 

“I want everyone to see this.” 

Those words make his blood run cold, and suddenly, Travis is pushing at his chest, trying to get him away. 

“Stop, s-stop, no-” 

Larry is off at the first sign of resistance, stepping way back with his hands raised.   
“Shit, dude, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” 

“No, just, fucking… Don’t ever say that shit to me again. Ever. I’m not… I’m not everyone’s. I don’t…. Fuck!” Travis claws his fingers over his face, the same words from Michael playing over in his head. 

“Hey, Trav, it’s alright, man, it’s cool. No one else has to see, okay? I won’t say it again. I didn’t mean it like that.” Larry hazards a step forward, and Travis looks up at him. 

 

“I… I know. I…. Fuck.” He wants to tell Larry that he trusts him - but does he really? Does he actually trust this guy who’d kicked the shit out of him more times than he could count? Well, in his defense, Travis had been a prick. 

“You wanna just go? Forget about this shit?” Larry asks, his rough voice low and comforting. Travis just nods, knowing that Larry hadn’t meant anything by it. He just wants to get out of his own damn head. 

“Cool.” The taller of the two stepped forward, gently brushing his thumb over the new mark on the blond’s neck. It’s too gentle, too kind for him. For this. This isn’t real, it can’t be. Travis pushes the hand away and makes for the door again, yanking his sneakers on and turning, watching as Larry laced up his boots. He doesn’t seem fazed, and as he nudges Travis out of the way, he grabs the cigarette from him and takes a drag, grinning at the other and letting the smoke filter through his teeth. 

They head out and into the elevator, keeping distance between them. It’s not like they’d be all over each other anyway, it’s just for safekeeping right now. Travis leans against the wall for a moment, just watching Larry as he pulls his hair out of the bun and lets it spill across his shoulders. Hm. Nice. 

They’re in the lobby and out the front door in a few minutes, and as Travis heads for the sidewalk, Larry pauses, cocking a brow. 

“Where are you going? I’m driving.” He motions to the banged up Jeep parked in the lot. 

“Oh… I just assumed…” Travis mutters, following after him. 

“Assumed what? I’m a barbarian who doesn’t know how to drive?” Larry teases him, unlocking the car. It’s a dingy brown thing, dents and scratches galore, but it looks like it’ll roll, at the very least. 

“Yeah, pretty much. Didn’t know there was enough room in your skull for, you know, learning to drive.” Travis teases right back, opening the car door and climbing in. Surprisingly, the passenger side is clean, and Travis expects that Sal is likely the occupant here. He glances over as Larry gets in and buckles up. 

“What, you don’t know how to drive?” Larry asks, and Travis falls silent.   
“Oh my god, you don’t, do you?” 

“No one would teach me, you fucking basket case.” Travis glowers at him as the other puts the Jeep in gear and pulls off the curb, peeling out of the lot. Travis may not know how to drive, but he does know that this isn’t the speed limit. He chooses to not comment on that, though. 

“I’ll teach you, you pretentious twit.” Larry mutters at him, eyes on the road, shockingly. 

“You What?” 

“I’ll teach you to drive. You gotta learn sometime.” 

“Oh… Uh…. Okay. Fine.” 

Fine. 

_____

The rest of the drive is uneventful, thankfully, and silent, thank God for that. The diner is mostly empty, save for the table all the way at the back of the place, where a few teens sit, all joking around and cracking up.   
They look… normal.   
As they approach, Travis can see Ash and Sal, right away. The pair of them are playing some intense version of paper football, and it looks like Sal is really bad at it. Beside the two of them in the corner of the booth is Todd, the redhead, with another kid he doesn’t recognize, but with the way he’s got an arm sling around Todd, he can guess that he’s his boyfriend. 

“What’s up, rejects?!” Larry announces himself as they get close enough, and there’s a chorus of greetings, before they all awkwardly trail off at the sight of Travis. 

He’s not offended that they’re put off by him, of course. He just gives a meager wave, not really in the business of driving people off right now. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Ashley breaks the awkward silence, pointing at Travis like no one else could see him. 

“Oh, yeah, Travis is my fake boyfriend now.” Larry says it so casually as he drops into the chair beside Sal, leaving Travis to cautiously sit beside Ash. 

“Oh right, because he wasnt a prick to us in high- Hold up, boyfriend?” She looks at the pair again.   
“Weren’t you like, the grossest homophobe in school?” 

Travis gives a slow nod.   
“I’m sorry. For everything. I know I can’t make it right, but… I’m trying to change things.”

Ash eyeballs him before huffing and turning back to her very important game. Larry’s foot brushes against Travis’s under the table, and their eyes meet. It’s a look that asks if Travis was okay, if he needed a break,but Trav was alright for now.   
He’d expected much worse.

“Hey, Travis.” The blond looks over quickly at Todd, and he immediately feels his chest tighten. He’d really been an asshole to the redhead. How many times had he beaten the shit out of Todd? Fuck, Travis feels minuscule now as he nods.   
“Hey, Todd.” His voice is hoarse, anxious, despite the fact that Todd seemed to hold no malice towards him. 

“This is Neil. My real boyfriend, not fake.” The ginger motions, and Travis nods at him, giving a tight grin. 

“Hey, relax, Travis. No one is gonna jump you or yell at you. Not one of us, anyway.” He looks over at Sal, and nods sheepishly. 

“Yeah, I just… I’m sorry.” And all at once, Travis is suddenly overwhelmed. He’s sitting at a table with all of these people he’s mistreated, has laid hands on, has insulted. He’s made most of them cry, he knows, and he can never take back the terrible things he said.   
“I don’t belong here.” He stands suddenly, moving to leave, but Larry stands as well, catching him by the waist as he tries to run. He’s suddenly pulled flush to the bigger boy’s chest, so close that Larry’s lips brush against his ear. 

“Hey, breathe. Everything is fine. Don’t freak out, okay? These guys are cool, and I know you’re not how you were. You just need to show them that, okay?” Larry’s gravelly voice soothes Travis, the tension melting from his shoulders. He can’t help but want to cling to him, to nuzzle into his shoulder, to be held by those muscular arms. 

Travis nods slightly, knowing that they’re probably getting some serious stares. Larry nods, releasing Travis and watching as he dropped back into his seat.   
The brunet sits back down, and Ashley gives him a wild look. One of those, ‘we’re going to have a talk and you can’t stop it’ kind of looks. 

It’s easier, from there. They all order and get their food, and Travis just watches the antics of the old friends. Ash keeps swiping fries off of Sal’s plate, Todd and Neil share a milkshake, and Larry makes the most jokes. It’s honestly… comfortable. It feels like true acceptance. 

“So, Travis. You, Uh… you got something right, Uh…” Ash points to her own neck, and the blond can’t help but blush. 

“Yeah, they’re to freak my dad out. The whole fake thing is really just to piss him off.” He replies, grabbing a fry and shoving it in his mouth. 

“Huh. You guys are really trying to sell this. Like… Hm.” Todd’s voice has a teasing lilt to it, and Trav swallows hard. 

“Yeah. Obviously. I don’t want this to fail, or for it to come out like… And blow up in my face. But it probably will.” He sighs heavily. Ash reaches across the table, taking one of his hands with a warm smile. 

“And I’ll be there to say I told you so when it does.” 

“You’re kind of a bitch.” It just slips out, and Travis feels his face blanch. 

“Well, you’re gayer than all of us combined.” She retorts, easing back in her chair with a chuckle. And Travis? He doesn’t even try to deny it. 

Sal cracks up at that, patting his hands on the table a few times.   
“One of us. One of us.” 

“Ah, fuck off, come on.” Travis mumbles, ducking his head. He just kind of wants to dissolve from there, but he phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out, reading the message. It’s from his father. 

“I...I have to go.” His voice actually cracks a little, and Larry is alert, watching him cautiously. 

“You okay?” He asks. 

“Yeah, I just… My dad. He told me to come home. He probably got word from one of his spies somewhere.” He shrugs, getting up. 

“I’ll drive you.” Larry says firmly, but Travis shakes his head. 

“No, I’m gonna walk. It’s better if you’re not there. I’ll see you tomorrow, though.” The blond smiles a little, and Larry gives him a stern look, just before he’s grabbing him and pulling him close, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Stay safe. Text me.” Larry murmurs, and with that, Travis is tripping over his feet to get out of the diner. 

___

“That’s not something fake boyfriends usually do, Johnson.” It’s Neil who calls him out once he’s sat back down, and Travis is gone. 

Larry merely shrugs.   
“He’s fucked up. He needs it, and I’ll give it.” He replies. 

“Yeah, but… Don’t let yourself get hurt here, Lar. If it’s not real for him…” Sal places a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s fine, alright? I know, I’m not in too deep. I’m just letting him talk and open up a little, and if we make out to pass the time, who cares?” 

“I just don’t want you to get attached. People like him, they don’t change. They act like it, but they’re always like that, you know?” Ashley speaks now, and that pulls a glare from the boy. 

“Hey, fuck off. I’ve talked to him. I know he’s not that prick from high school.” 

“Are you sure? You’re sure he’s not just trying to fool you and use you?” She snaps back, and the pair of them fall into squabbling, making the others at the table just sigh and roll their eyes, knowing this wouldn’t end any time soon. 

_____

Travis cries out in pain as the belt whips over his flesh again, adding another welt to the dozen or so on his back. 

“Repent.” The sickening voice calls sharply, and Travis looks up at his father, tears streaming from his eyes. 

“I haven’t done anything wrong.” The boy spits, earning him a slap across the face, nearly knocking out of his kneeling position on the floor of his living room. His father held the leather belt with white knuckles, his eyes narrowed and teeth bared as he paced slowly around his son. 

“Repent.”

Travis spits blood now, looking up at the man. 

“Fuck you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE RATING HAS CHANGED! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT!!!

“It’s been like, three days since I’ve even heard from him.” 

“What, you think he’s hurt?” 

The coffee shop is bustling around them, Sal behind the counter fixing drinks, and Larry on the other side, doodling on his empty cup with a sharpie. He needed to be at the garage in a few hours, so here he was, killing a little time.   
Sal looks over at him, his hair pulled into a hipster bun today, showing off the numerous piercings in his ears and a few of the scars on his neck. 

“Of course I think he’s hurt. I’m just…” Larry nearly said worried. Was he worried about Travis?   
“Concerned. I’m concerned that he might be dead. And that would suck in general.” The brunet shrugs, his pen running over the cardboard, slowly drawing a very realistic rose. 

Sal chuckles behind the mask, shaking his head as he hands over a couple of drinks to a customer. 

“I’m sure he isn’t dead, Lar. His dad wouldn’t kill him.” 

“Yeah, but are we sure about that?” The man challenges, leaning forward. 

“Why don’t you go to his house and find out, then, huh? If his dad kills you, then we’ll know if he killed Travis too.” Sal teases him, and Larry huffs, drawing a stripe down Sal’s arm with his sharpie. The blue haired boy gasps in shock, recoiling from him. 

“Man, you’re an ass without your boyfriend around!” Sal mocks at him, and Larry sits straight up, brandishing the marker violently. 

 

“I’ll draw a fucking mustache on that mask, Sal, I swear on my mother.” 

Sal only cackles, skipping away to get back to work fixing drinks. What a little shit. 

______________________________

When Travis finally managed to pry his eyes open, the only thing that registered was pain. He was in a lot of pain, mostly across his back, but his ribs as well, and his face. Fuck, one of his eyes was swollen.   
His mind travels back to the source, the few days before. It always hurts more the days after the beatings - today he was stiff, but he was able to haul himself from the bed and make it to the bathroom. Yeah, maybe he’s gotta sit down while he showers, but as the water runs over his body, he lets his mind slide. 

His father had relented at three in the morning, after whipping him until he’d lost count. The bruises on his flesh were colorful, greens, blues, purples and reds. As the warm water rushes over him, he feels the aches soothe just a little, helping him to loosen up and get his mind together.

Once he’s out of the shower, he heads back to his room, pulling out some clothes from the drawers of his dresser. He finds a pair of jeans with only a couple of holes in them, dragging them over his legs before beginning the search for a shirt. He settles on an oversized sweater, one that didn’t lie too heavily against his back, a violent fuschia color that really brought out the red of the bruise around his eye.   
Travis moves over to the standing mirror in the corner of the room, looking over his reflection sadly. Fuck, he looks pathetic. He knows he does. The way he stands, the way he holds his head, he’s just a pathetic kid in too big clothes and an ego that’s like chipped armor around his heart.   
He sighs, pushing his hair out of his eyes before he moves to the side table, picking up his phone. The screen has new cracks in it, and the battery’s been dead for days, but he’s got it plugged in now, and he powers it on.   
As soon as the screen lights up, about fifty text messages zoom in, and Travis can’t help but smile. A few of them are from his father, but inconsequential things. The rest, though, are from Larry Johnson. Over the past two and a half days, he’s gotten messages ranging from random boring shit, to legitimate concern. 

[from: Dumbass]: hey r u ded

[from: Dumbass]: im gonna feel like an asshole if u r

[from: Dumbass]: I feel really bad, Trav. I’m worried about u man.

[from: Dumbass]: Hey, if u get this, im with sal at the coffee shop this morning, come by if ur still alive

Just a few of the messages, but the most recent one catches his attention. He knows the shop he’s talking about, Sal works there. He could use a coffee… And if he’s really honest with himself, he could really use a fucking hug from Larry. That was stupid as hell, but right now, he could use a comforting touch. 

He gets himself together, slipping his phone into his pocket and pulling on his sneakers. He’s grateful that his father isnt home as he makes his way out of the house, down the hill and onto the sidewalk. Rain is falling steadily on him, and he’s forgotten his umbrella, but he doesn’t feel like going back for it now. He’s already out. It’s slowgoing, the ache in his entire body making the relatively short walk take around half an hour. 

Main street in Nockfell in a bustling metropolis - which is to say that it was tiny, with a few run down storefronts. An antique shop, a car repair shop, the secondhand book shop, and the coffee shop. It’s all cute, small town USA. 

Travis drags his feet a little outside of the shop, hands stuffed in his pockets as he tries to come up with some kind of coverstory. He knew he didn’t need one, but he didn’t want Larry to think he was a little bitch who couldn’t even fight back.   
Why did he give a shit what Larry thought?

As he hovers outside of the shop, he looks through the large front window, and catches sight of the boy in question. He’s sat on a barstool at the counter, his hair pulled up halfway in a bun, a red hoodie unzipped, showing off the beat up old Sanity’s Fall tee shirt underneath. He’s laughing at something, and Travis can see Sal motioning at him as he speaks. Fuck, Larry looks so happy.   
Something possesses him to quit moping around, and he finally enters the shop, the bell above the door jingling as he does.   
The shop itself has quite a rustic feel, most of the furniture made of pallets or old crates, stained and cushioned. The aesthetic is warm, cozy and comfortable. Safe, even. It’s all red-brown and blue-greens, and Travis finds himself drawn to it.   
He approaches the counter, pushing his soggy hair out of his face again, hoping he doesn’t look too much like a drowned rat. 

“-I swear on my mother.” Larry’s threatening Sal with a sharpie, and Travis cracks a little smile. 

“Hey.” He calls out softly, doing his best to replace the grin with a scowl, but he can’t make it happen. He’s too happy to see Larry. 

The brunet whips around suddenly, eyes wide with shock.   
“Travis, what the fuck?” Larry gasps, jumping down from the barstool and covering the distance between them in two strides of those long legs. For a moment, Travis thinks he’s going to get hugged, but instead, Larry freezes up, eyes going immediately to the marks on his face, around his eye, and the couple that are visible around the wide neck of his sweater. 

“Your dad did this?” His voice is low, hushed, and Travis is grateful for that. He shrugs vaguely, anyway. 

“It happens. My, uh… My phone died, I’ve been sleeping a lot and I just didn’t charge it.” He mumbles, and Larry nods slowly, but the look in his eyes is faraway, like he isn’t really listening to what Travis had just said. 

“C’mon. Gonna get you something hot to drink, then we can go back to my place so I can look at you.” The brunet says, grabbing Travis by the wrist and hauling him over to the barstool where he’d been seated, and the blond can’t even bring himself to fight back. He doesn’t want to fight him.   
Sal has been watching the pair, and once they sit down, Travis can see the smile in his eyes. 

“Hot chocolate or coffee?” He asks, and Travis glances at Larry, who makes a face at him. 

“Coffee. The really strong stuff.” Larry says, and Travis nods, giving a quiet mumble. 

“Huh?” Sal leans across the counter. “I didn’t catch that.” 

“Lots of cream and sugar.” Travis repeats, feeling stupid. Paired against someone who takes their coffee like jet fuel, Travis feels like he’s just drinking milk. 

Sal hums thoughtfully, looking him over.   
“Whipped cream and chocolate drizzle?” There’s no trace of mockery or teasing in his voice at all, and Travis nods, the ghost of a smile on his lips. The masked boy gives a firm nod, turning around to fix the drinks for the pair. 

As Travis sits up on a barstool, he looks over at Larry, who’s tight lipped, just watching Travis for a moment. 

“You missed me.” Travis tries, smirking a little, and Larry rolls his eyes, snorting. 

“I didn’t miss you. I was enjoying the peace and quiet without you.” The words have no venom at all, in fact, they’ve got an edge of fondness that surprises Travis a little. 

“Oh. Sorry about that, I’ll try to end up in the hospital next time.” The words just slip out of his mouth without much thought, and Larry just stares at him, eyes dark and unhappy. 

“That…. Wasn’t very funny.” The taller boy deadpans, and Travis ducks his head sheepishly, looking down at his sneakers. 

“Sorry, that was stupid. I really didn’t… Mean it like that, I guess it was a little dark for your tastes, Mr. Death Metal and Pentagrams.” 

“Oh yeah? Well, you look like a fucking Care Bear in that pink sweater. What are you, Ass-Kicked-A-Lot Bear?” Larry snaps right back. They both fall silent for a bit as they mull that one over. That was pretty creative, even for Larry, whos favorite swear was ‘fuckknuckles’. 

“Uh… Here.” Sal clears his throat, holding out the two cups to them, hoping he broke up whatever fight was about to start in the coffee shop. Larry simply wets his lips, taking his cup and turning on his heel, heading for the door. 

Travis looks at Sal, then to Larry before he grabs the cup and heads after him, not wanting to be left alone when he seemed sort of angry at him. 

“Come on, Phelps.” Larry holds the door open for the blond, the rain picking up outside, working itself into a steady monsoon. They both duck through it and head for Larry’s Jeep, climbing in to escape the rain, but only after they’re both soaked to the bone and freezing. 

“Jesus Fuck!” The brunet hollers as they slam the doors shut, getting away from the deluge. Travis is quiet, shivering now as he hunches forward, trying to conserve body heat. 

“Hey, you okay, Trav?” He reaches over, placing a hand on Travis’ back. The reaction is instantaneous, white hot agony bolting through him from the welts on his skin, from his father’s punishment. Travis cries out in pain, his whole body convulsing until he’s scrambled away from the touch in the confined space. 

Larry can only stare, eyes wide with worry as he watches the boy back away, pressing himself into the corner.   
“Shit… Man, it’s bad?” 

Travis only stares, eyes hooded as he tries to get his breathing under control. All he can manage is a meager nod, swallowing hard.  
Larry watches, biting his lip. 

“Buckle up, drink your coffee. We’re going to my place.” He commands, buckling his own seatbelt and starting the car.   
Travis can’t even find it in himself to do anything but comply, careful to not rest his back against anything and cause any more of that ugly pain. 

God bless Larry Johnson for driving slow and avoiding any potholes or pain. One could actually be fooled into thinking that Larry Johnson actually gave a shit about Travis Phelps. 

The coffee in the blond boy’s hands was warming him all over, sipping it slowly and letting it chase off the chill. His mind is a little fuzzy, and the time passes in a strange way (Maybe Travis actually fell asleep, who knows), but the next thing he knows, Larry is opening the passenger door and reaching across him, unbuckling his seatbelt and holding a hand out to him to help him out of the car.   
Travis snorts, pushing his hand away and climbing out into the rain, only shaking a little bit. 

It’s surprisingly silent as the pair head into the apartment building, Travis’ eyes still trained on his feet as they walk, but Larry is close enough that their shoulders are brushing with every step.   
Travis kind of likes that proximity, and he leans a little closer, glad when Larry didn’t pull away. Instead, he just lets his hand slide down over the other’s wrist, gently lacing their fingers together in a way that was absolutely not at all tender, nor intimate. And Travis hated it. Which is why he tightened his grip on Larry’s bony fingers. 

Larry still hasn’t spoken, which is kind of odd, but not terrible. There’s something about this moment that’s quiet and comfortable for Travis. He just wants to curl up on Larry’s chest and be safe and held and protected.   
Fucking stupid. 

Larry presses the button for the elevator, his eyes trained on the doors, as if he thought that even looking at Travis would startle him, like an animal. And he was probably right.   
The doors slide open a moment later and they step into the rickety old thing, Larry scanning the key card for the basement and hitting the button. 

“My mom probably isn’t home right now.” Larry mumbles, and Travis nods, staring at the silver walls around them in an effort to distract himself from the blatantly obvious issue at hand.   
The elevator dings, the doors slide open, and they start to walk to the basement apartment. A few of the washing machines are running, the rickety old things sounding like they were about to shake apart into nothing but nuts and bolts. It’s distracting enough that Travis doesn’t notice that Larry’s got the door open and he’s being pulled inside. 

True to his word, the apartment is empty, and the brunet is pulling Travis through the living room, and into his bedroom, sitting him down on the bed. 

“Take the sweater off, I’ll be right back. I’m gonna get the first aid kit, okay?” Larry is surprisingly soft in his mannerisms right now, and Travis is more than a little stunned. What happened to the angry rage monster he’d started to fake date? Not that this was a bad thing.   
Did people just… care about each other? Was that a thing?

He watches Larry go with a distant expression, taking a shaky breath as he grips the hem of the pink sweater, rolling the fabric in his hands anxiously. There was no harm in just taking it off, right? Larry wouldn’t be bothered - after all, he hung around with Sal, and Sal was fucked up six ways to Sunday.  
He carefully lifts the soaked sweater over his head and folds it neatly, setting it aside on the bed, not bothering to even try to look at himself. He focuses instead on the posters on the walls, the paintings, and the chips in the drywall. Anything but himself. 

“Holy fuck.” The hushed whisper comes from Larry, who stands in the doorway, clutching a first aid kit and a couple of ice packs, but his eyes are wide with horror as he stares at Travis’ back.   
“What the fuck did he use on you?” 

“A belt.” Travis answers softly, and he winces as he shifts a little, wondering how bad it really looked. 

“Can I take a picture to show the fucking cops?” Larry’s voice is suddenly darker, rougher, and Travis twists to face him. 

“No! No cops! No police, no nothing! This isn’t… I’m not gonna do that.” The blond snaps, his chest heaving now. He didn’t have anywhere to go, no one, not a damn thing to his name. He’s alone in this, and if he got his father arrested, everything would go up in flames. 

“Trav… Fuck.” He sighs heavily, rubbing his eyes.   
“Fine. Let me look at your back, I’ve got numbing cream.” 

The tension is so thick in the room, you could cut it with a knife, but Travis obeys, turning a little on the bed so that Larry has access to his back now. The brunet hands over an ice pack, grunting that it was for his eye, and Travis merely grunts back his thanks.   
Its still for a moment, and Trav can hear the click of the lid of a bottle being opened. 

“Probably gonna be cold, but… I’ll try not to hurt you.” Larry whispers. The blond nods, swallowing hard, trying to brace himself. 

When Larry’s hands finally make contact, Travis legitimately whimpers, trying to not lunge away or anything too ridiculous. The cream is cold, but the way that Larry’s hand barely ghosts over the wounds is so fucking gentle that Travis could scream. It still hurts, but Larry is kind, smoothing the cream over each welt, spreading it carefully over the bruises. 

“It’s, uh… It’s pretty wild.” Larry murmurs softly, and Travis turns his head to the sound. 

“Huh?” 

“This. Us. We used to fight all the time, we kicked the shit out of each other, man. And now I’m…” He sighs, gently massaging the ointment into the boy’s pale skin. 

“You’re helping me. You must like me or something.” Travis teases him lightly. 

“No homo.” Larry responds, smirking as Travis elbows him sharply.   
“Alright. A little homo.”

“... You wanna do something kinda homo?” It’s hesitant, quiet, somewhat nervous, and Larry cocks a brow, smirking a little.   
“Like what?” 

“I… I don’t know, I’ve never done this before.” Travis flushes, looking away. 

“I don’t think you’re up for fucking right now. I could jerk you off, if you want? Or blow you.” Larry offers, and Travis flushes deeply. Larry was… He looked serious. 

“Uh… Blow me?” Trav asks shakily, swallowing hard. 

“You want me to? Because I’d be happy to. Especially if you’ve never had one before, seriously.” Larry’s brown eyes are intense and sincere as Travis turns to face him, face burning beneath the ice pack he had clutched to his eye. 

“... Only if you want.” 

“Dude, I just offered to suck your dick. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.” Larry grins.   
“Lemme go wash my hands so i don’t like, numb your dick.” And just like that, he’s up and off the bed, heading out of the room and leaving Travis to have, yet another, gay panic. 

He wasn’t supposed to still be freaking out like this, this was fucking normal, wasn’t it? Larry Johnson wants to suck him off, there’s no reason to freak out about this! This was fine, no stress, no feelings, just blowing off some steam. It would be okay, there was no reason to lose it. No panic. No panic. No-

“Are you freaking out?” Larry’s voice breaks through the quiet, and Travis looks up, his defense mechanism snapping into place. 

“No, fuck off.” He snaps, and Larry cocks a brow. 

“Stand down, fuckwad. You wanna get off or not?” Larry mutters, and Trav huffs, nodding.   
“Then scoot to the edge of the bed, pants around your ankles.” 

Travis is flushed all the way down his chest, but he’s not about to disobey an order from Larry. He swallows hard, unbuttoning his pants and sliding beneath the waistband of his jeans and briefs, closing his eyes and shoving both of them down. He’s embarrassed, too embarrassed, and he’s breathing hard, trying to ease himself. He hears shuffling footsteps and a soft thud, but he doesn’t even dare to peek. 

“Hey, relax.” Larry’s voice is close to him now, his large hand resting on Travis’ thigh, and the boy jumps, his knee jerking.   
Blue eyes flicker open, and blood rushes to his cock at the sight before him. Larry is knelt on the floor before him, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He looks completely comfortable like this, like he’s done it a hundred times before.   
“If I do anything you don’t like, tell me and I’ll stop.” 

Travis forces himself to nod, his mouth going dry as Larry raises his hand to his mouth, licking a fat wet stripe across his palm. He does it once, twice, three times before he’s slowly moving forward, and Larry’s hand is wrapped around Travis’ cock.   
Travis isn’t small, or large. He’s perfectly average, really. And Larry doesn’t seem disappointed or anything in the sight before him.   
The moment that Larry’s got a hand on him, though, Travis’ mind short circuits, and he just loses his sanity. 

Larry Johnson is jerking him off. 

The man chuckles softly as he moves his hand slowly along the slowly hardening shaft, humming thoughtfully.   
“Man, you’ve really never had anyone’s hands on you before? Fuck.” Larry practically purrs, and Travis feels his muscles tighten as he tries to deal with that. 

“You’re so pretty, Travis, fuck, man.” 

“Do you ever fucking shut up?” Travis snarls, not really meaning to be an asshole, but he has no fucking clue how to take a compliment. He’s fully erect now, the head of his dick a pretty pink color, precum beading at the slit. On an upstroke, Larry swipes his thumb over it, earning a sweet, soft moan that hauled from Travis’ throat against his will.   
He slaps his hand over his mouth, but Larry just laughs. 

 

“Hey, be as loud as you want. It’s hot as fuck.” He rumbles, inching forward a bit more before he leans in, giving the head of Trav’s cock an experimental kitten lick. Travis can’t help the buck of his hips upward, but Larry grunts softly, placing his free hand on the smaller boy’s hip to hold him in place. 

“Hold still. I don’t really feel like choking to death on your dick, okay?” The dark haired boy snaps, and Travis only snorts, silently agreeing. 

Larry continues, leaning in and drawing his tongue up the shaft of Travis’ cock, the boy shuddering beneath him. It’s just gentle, hot licks, soft kisses, teasing the blond boy to no fucking end. The way Larry’s lips work over the head, the way that his tongue laves over him - Travis freezes up when he feels something cold brush over the sensitive flesh, and he looks down, lips parting, jaw dropping when he sees the source. 

Larry grins, sticking out his tongue to reveal a piercing there, a simple ball stud, and Travis’ cock literally twitches as he lets out a louder moan. Larry has the fucking nerve to laugh at him, so the blond huffs, reaching around yanking at the boy’s hair sharply, eliciting a little groan from him. 

“Oh, fucking really, Johnson? You like it when I pull your hair?” Travis speaks, and he’s surprised at the way his voice doesn’t shake or waver at all as he teases Larry, who only rolls his eyes, his lips circling the head of the other boy’s cock. He slowly begins to swallow him down, into the wet heat of his mouth, and Travis’ eyes fucking roll back in his skull. It’s so good, fucking fuck, why hasn’t he done this before?   
Larry obviously had done this before, the way his tongue was swirling around his sensitive flesh, that piercing dragging over the slit. Travis’ heart it hammering in his chest, his breaths coming in ragged draws. 

“Fuck, Larry, fuck-” Travis moans, his fingers knotting int Larry’s messy strands, tugging at him until the other boy’s beaky nose was pressed into the blond’s pubes, and Travis’ cock was nestled deeply into the tight warmth of Larry’s throat. 

Oh, god. Oh, god, oh god! 

“I-I’m-” He tries, but Larry only moans louder, swallowing thickly around the cock in his mouth, his throat spasming around Travis. 

That’s all it took to shove Travis over the edge, and he was falling into euphoria as he spilled down Larry’s throat.   
“Oh, fuck, Oh, god, Larry, fuck, I- Oh, my god.” He’s well aware that he’s babbling, but he can’t help it. He feels too fucking good. He could float here forever, just him, and Larry, and this feeling. He’s obsessed with it.   
He doesn’t even feel Larry move, doesn’t feel him pull away, not until the cool air hits his dick and makes him shudder. 

“Earth to Travis.” There are fingers snapping in front of his nose, and Travis jumps, meeting Larry’s eyes. 

“Wow.” He mumbles, and Larry grins, running his tongue over his teeth. 

“Yeah?” Fuck, his voice is scratchy, ruined, all from Travis. Oh, holy fuck. 

“Yeah. That was… Really good.” Travis whispers, the fatigue rapidly catching up with him, digging its sharp claws into his shoulders. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. You’re gorgeous, you know that? In a totally hetero way.” That only earns him a sharp pinch to the ribs, making him laugh.   
“Oh, quit it. Fine. Full homo. Just friends giving other friends blowjobs.” Larry stuck his tongue out, laying on the bed and motioning for Travis to follow. The blond only hesitates long enough to pull his pants back up before he’s inching forward, trying to find a comfortable way to lay without agitating his back. 

Larry opens his arms, and Travis grunts, rolling his eyes as he carefully curls into him, laying his head on his shoulder as Larry’s arm draped over his loosely.   
Travis is content to be quiet, to let himself be content with these events, but he can’t. Not yet. Something is nagging at him, biting at his mind, and he swallows hard. 

“Larry?” Travis murmurs softly, getting him a small grunt of recognition. 

“Thank you. For everything. I… Don’t know why you took care of me, but… Thank you.” 

The words fall into silent air, and for a moment, Travis wonders if Larry’s fallen asleep beneath him. However, the boy shift beneath him, rolling slightly to pull the blond into a soft, sweet kiss. 

“Any time, Care Bear.” He whispers, and Travis smiles softly, nuzzling against him comfortably. 

He wishes this could be real. 

He wants to get used to this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love family bonding. :')

When Travis wakes, he finds himself alone, laying on his stomach and clutching Larry’s pillow. And for whatever reason, his heart breaks a little.   
Why would Larry stay here with him? Why would he cuddle with him and make him feel safe? He didn’t owe him a damn thing, not after helping Travis with his bruises and then sucking his cock. 

Oh, fuck.  
The thought of the whole ordeal has Travis’ mind racing, going straight to the memory of Larry on his knees between his thighs, smirking at him, his lips stretched around his dick like he fucking belonged there - 

Woah, he needed to stop thinking about that before he got a hard on. 

He sighs heavily, grimacing a little as he starts to sit up, and he looks around for his sweater, but it’s gone. He frowns.   
Didn’t he fold it and set it at the foot of the bed? That’s strange. 

He groans as he gets to his feet, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he heads through Larry’s messy room, towards the living room, where he can hear music playing. It’s not Sanity’s Fall, though, it sounds softer, easier, with lyrics in Spanish that drifted through the air. 

He’d forgotten about Larry’s heritage, not that the other spoke much about it. 

Travis can smell something delicious wafting through the air, and he wonders absently how long it’s been since he’s actually eaten anything. He was starving. 

The bedroom door is already cracked open, and he slips out easily without making any noise, his bare feet padding on the carpet as he makes his way from the bedroom to the kitchen, eyes down.   
He sees Larry standing over the stove, his hips moving lazily to the music. His hair is pulled up completely out of his face now, off his shoulders, and Travis can’t fucking help it. It’s like he’s been possessed as he moves up behind Larry, slipping his arms around his waist and nuzzling his face into the bigger boy’s back.   
Larry stiffens for a moment, glancing back before snorting. 

“Hey.” He hums, reaching back to pat Travis’ hip fondly. The blond merely grunts in greeting, not wanting to move, or ruin this. 

It’s stupid, really stupid, but Larry just feels like a safe place for Travis. Like home, comfortable, protective, kind. It’s killing him, since he’s got no fucking clue what to even do with that. He’s happy with him, safe around him…

Larry chuckles, setting down the spatula after flipping the grilled cheese sandwich he was making, and he turns so that they’re chest to chest, and Larry can see Travis now. 

“You passed out, it’s only been about an hour, though. I have to go to work in a little, but I’m making lunch for us first, and Ash and Sal said you could come to the house and hang with them.” 

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” Travis grumbles, but the fact that Larry was being so damn domestic right now was about to give him an aneurysm. 

“I know you don’t. I just figured you didn’t want to be alone and you didn’t want to go back home.” Larry replies, ruffling Travis’ hair.   
“Hey, have you met my mom?” The brunet smirks, motioning to just behind Travis, and the boy feels his blood run cold as he turns, seeing that sweet older woman seated at the kitchen table, a small smile on her lips. 

Travis hadn’t even seen her sitting there, and here he was, shirtless, hanging all over her son. When they’d met on that first day, she’d been so warm and so kind, he could only imagine what she thought of him now. 

He jumps away from Larry, putting a decent amount of distance between the two of them. 

“I-Uh, s-Sorry, I didn’t…. see you there.” He mumbles sheepishly, but Lisa just laughs gently, waving her hand dismissively. 

“It’s alright, Travis.” She smiles warmly, motioning for him to sit as Larry sets three plates on the table, serving them each a grilled cheese sandwich.   
He hesitates though, turning his back to Lisa and grabbing Larry’s arm, pulling him closer.   
“Where’s my fucking sweater?” He hisses sharply, and Larry rolls his eyes at him. 

“In the dryer, dumb shit. Go to my room and grab one of my shirts out of the second drawer.” Larry pushes him off, and Travis tries to not blush too much as he storms to Larry’s bedroom. 

________

“So… This is a fake thing? Just pretend?” Lisa is the first to speak after Travis had run off to the bedroom.   
Larry is bent over in the fridge, pulling out some sodas and some ketchup for the sandwiches. 

“Yup. Pretend.” He grunts, setting them down on the table and pointedly avoiding eye contact with Lisa. 

“He seems…” The woman hesitates. 

“I know.” 

“Are you being careful? I just don’t want you to get your heart broken, Larry, darling.” She reaches out, placing her hand on her son’s arm gently. 

Larry looks up at his mother, studying her face, and he knows there’s no point in lying to her.   
“I’m not gonna get my heart broken. I just wanna help him. I can’t just do nothing.” He mumbles, taking a deep breath.   
“He’s… He’s hurting, and I just want to protect him. He deserves that, at least.” 

Lisa nods slowly, brushing a strand of hair out of Larry’s face.  
“We should see what we can do about that, then. Maybe… Hm. Talk to Sal and Todd - they’ve got a house now, don’t they?” 

Her son looks up, eyes wide.   
“Why didn’t I think of that?! Holy…” He kisses her cheek, now buzzing with excitement. They could get Travis out of there, couldn’t they? And somewhere safe!  
_______________________________

Travis is taking his time finding a shirt, looking through the drawer slowly as he prays for the embarrassment to melt from his bones. He knows Lisa, he knows she isn’t judging him at all, but at the same time, she had seen that ridiculous display.   
Well, she seemed okay with it. 

Travis roots around the drawer until he’s found a white shirt with a black Sanity’s Fall logo on the front, and he wonders how many of these shirts in how many different colors that Larry has. He shrugs, pulling it on anyway, smoothing it over his chest before looking in the mirror. He hums thoughtfully, quite liking the way it hung off of him, too big, and yet, fitting him perfectly. He likes that an awful lot.   
He cards a hand through his hair, ruffling it a little bit, and he hesitates, noting that his roots were beginning to show. Huh. Well… Maybe he’d do something different this time. His mother’s hair had been black, his father’s blond, and after his mother’s death, for whatever reason, his father had told him to dye his hair after. To look more like him. 

He wonders for a moment if he could get away with some wild color. Hm…

 

Travis shakes himself from his thought and heads back to the kitchen, where Lisa and Larry seem to have just wrapped up a conversation. Larry looks him over, biting his lip and smirking hungrily at him. 

“Nice shirt.” He hums. 

“Thanks. Got it off some guy I know.” Trav rolls his eyes as he sits, careful not to rest back against the chair.

Larry rolls his eyes, focusing now on his food, and Travis has to smile a little, taking a bite of his sandwich and trying to chase off the thoughts that were gripping at him. 

______________

“Ash hates me.” 

“She doesn’t hate you, she just doesn’t know you.” 

The rain is still falling, not nearly as bad as it had been before, when they’d gotten to Addison. The windshield wipers are working overtime still as Larry drives toward Sal’s place. 

“She does know me. That’s why she hates me.” Travis mumbles, looking over at him. 

“Quit your bitching, Travis, I’m off work at eight, so you’ll only have to endure them for that long. Besides, Todd and Neil are gonna be there too. You won’t be murdered.” Larry glances at him.   
“And you won’t snap at them. They’re gonna try to help, they’re not out to get you.” 

“Yes, mother.” Travis rolls his eyes, snorting. 

“Sal likes you a lot, you know that, right?” Larry replies.

“Only because you like me.” 

“I don’t like you. I tolerate you.” Larry rolls his eyes, turning down the driveway. 

“And suck my dick.” Travis smirks, poking him playfully. 

“Which will never happen again if you don’t stop being a little shit.” The boy puts it in park, cocking a brow.   
“Go on. Shoo. I’ll see you later.” 

Travis hesitates, narrowing his eyes at Larry as he unbuckles his seatbelt.   
“Fine. Asshole.” Travis mutters. 

“Fuck you.” Larry leans in, pressing a warm kiss to his lips. It’s quick and delicate, Larry pulling away just moments after. 

“Fuck you too.” Travis shakes his head, climbing out of the Jeep and sprinting to the front door, managing to not get soaked. He knocks on the door quickly, but he looks back, watching Larry pull out of the driveway, honking as he drove off. 

He sighs, running his hand through his hair as the door is hauled open, and there stands Ash, eyes narrowed as she looks him up and down. 

“Uh-“ Travis tries, but she just turns on her heel and stalks off into the house, leaving the blond to step in and close the door behind him. 

“Travis is here!” Ash bellows, and Travis sighs, following her in.   
He looks around the room, chewing his lip a little. It’s a wide open, comfortable space, the couches are old, beaten up, but cozy, obviously secondhand. 

Neil and Todd are playing a nintendo 64, the wide screen television showing the blocky animation of Diddy Kong Racing. Seated on the floor, the pair of them are in a heated battle, and Sal sits on the couch, playing on his phone as Ash drops into the armchair. 

“Hey, Travis!” Sal chirps, motioning him in, and he clears his throat, heading in and seating himself on the end of the couch, away from the others. A safe distance away. 

“Hey, Trav. You want the next race?” Neil glances back at him, and he shrugs a little.   
“I… Guess? I’ve never played this game before.” He replies, trying to blend in a little. Ash snorts from across the room. 

“Well, I’m gonna kick your ass. Let’s go.” Ash snaps her fingers, scooting to the edge of her chair. She looks to Sal, who nods, and he gets up, leaving the room. Travis cocks a brow, but doesn’t question it.   
Larry had said they weren’t going to murder him, so… he could trust them, right? 

“Oh, come on!” Neil shouts out suddenly, and Todd gives a hoot of triumph. 

“Yes! I knew I’d win!” The ginger laughs, sticking his tongue out at Neil, who gives a little growl before pouncing on his boyfriend, tickling him until he shrieked. 

“Aw, gross. Move, guys, its our turn to play!” Ash pushes the pair of them away from the controllers, and they get up, moving back to the couch. Travis sighs, getting up and sitting on the floor in front of the player 2 controller, watching Ash as she sets the game up from the start. 

“Alright, Phelps, get ready to get your ass kicked.” The girl grins, and Travis just swallows hard, grimacing at her. 

“Not likely.” He mutters, scooping up the controller, hoping he wouldn’t fail this too badly.  
___________

Turns out, Travis is actually really good at racing games, and when he gets first place, Ash just slowly turns, glowering at him. 

“What… The Fuck.” She hisses, getting up off the floor and making a slow, threatening approach. Oh, great.   
Travis leaps to his feet, ready to defend himself, when Sal reenters the room. 

“Hey! What did i say about murdering each other?” The blue haired boy says firmly, holding a shoebox in his hands as he sits down on the couch.   
“Come sit down, come on.” He motions to the two, and Travis grunts, not trusting Sal much, but more than Ashley. He doesn’t know what’s in that box, but he gets the feeling that something weird is about to happen. 

The blond sits down on the floor facing Sal, and the others gather around, like this was a common occurrence.   
Sal hums quietly as he opens the box, his fingers moving quickly, and he raises whatever he’s working on up- 

“You… Want me to get stoned with you guys?” Travis asks, cocking a brow slightly. The others laugh at him, and Sal snorts. 

“Why not?” 

Why not? Well, that was certainly a loaded question, wasn’t it? It was its own can of worms, and honestly, Travis didn’t want to fight right now. He wanted to relax.   
Yeah, he’s a little uncomfortable with this particular group, he doesn’t trust them to not do something that’s meant to embarrass him.   
But he wants to get high. 

“Okay.” He replies, looking up at Sal. 

“Hell yeah!” Sal cheers, the others clapping as well, obviously happy that Travis was lightening up a bit.   
_____________________________

Travis never knew he could just be this relaxed. He felt like a marshmallow, laying in the armchair with his head on one arm and his legs over the other, eyes closed, mind drifting the molasses abyss. He’s vaguely aware that he’s let himself become vulnerable around these people, but the last time he’d opened his eyes, Ash had been braiding Sal’s hair, and the pair had looked really comfortable.   
Fuck, he wished Larry was here.   
A chorus of laughter jars him from the silence, and he looks over at Sal, who was giggling like he was stupid.   
Had… Had Travis said it out loud?

“Man, you really like Larry, don’t you?” He teases, and Travis halfheartedly flips him off, his hands going to tug at his own hair. He’s trying hard to look at his hair as his boney fingers pull through it, but suddenly, someone else’s hands were in his hair. 

“Oh my god, we should dye it.” It’s Sal, whispering as he messes with Travis’ bleached strands. 

“I know it’s ugly, don’t be mean.” Trav mutters, but Sal hushes him. 

“We should dye it pink. Like… Pastel pink.”   
For some reason, that sounded like an incredibly fantastic idea to his high as fuck brain, and Travis sits up, staring at Sal. 

“Yes. Right now. Right now!” He gasps. The drugstore was right around the corner, they could be there and back relatively quickly, couldn’t they? 

“You can’t go to the store, you’re high!” Sal whispers it like its a secret, and Travis scoffs. 

“Fuck off, I’m not. I wanna dye my hair!” He whined. 

“I’ll go to the store, I’ve got to grab something for dinner anyway. You guys… Try not to burn the house down for a minute?” God bless Neil, who’s pulling his shoes on and grabbing his keys. 

“No promises.” Ash calls to him from where she’s laying on the floor, taking selfies with Todd. Neil merely grunts back, rolling his eyes as he heads out. 

Sal hops up from where he’s crouched beside the armchair and he grabs Travis’ wrist, dragging him into the bathroom to start setting up their homemade hair salon. Travis goes willingly, not even thinking about the consequences this could have. He just wanted to do this stupid, impulsive thing, and he needed to do it right now. 

“Sooo….” Sal singsongs at him, and Travis can see the one bloodshot eye. He knew that one of Sal’s eyes was fake, but seeing it up close was weird. 

“Soo…?” Trav replies. 

“You and Larry. Lar-Bear. Lawrence.” The blue haired boy is digging out all kinds of dye supplies, and Travis can see that he’s kind of a pro. Still, he flushes a little at the mention of Larry. 

“My fake boyfriend.” The boy replies easily, leaning against the bathroom counter. 

“Uh huh. Fake. That you wish was real.” Sal teases him, and Trav can hear the smirk in his voice.   
“Don’t even deny it.”

“I… I… S-Shut the fuck up, Fisher, you don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.” Travis can’t help but be incredibly defensive now. 

“Woah, hey. Chill out, man, it’s a joke. Well, not really, because you’re both stupid, but it’s not… An insult. It’s okay if you like him.” Sal hums as he looks at some of the dye bottles that he’s got. 

“He… He doesn’t… He doesn’t like me like that. And even if he did, he’d be stupid to say something about it. I mean, earlier, he said we were just friends giving each other blo-” Travis finds his filter at the tail end of his thought, and he snaps his mouth shut with an audible click. Not fast enough, though. 

“Oh my god, did you really?!” Sal gasps, and that’s when Ashley chose to enter the bathroom as well, bored of Todd, who’d practically fallen asleep. 

“Did he what?” She asks, looser now, not at firey. 

“He definitely sucked Larry’s dick.” Sal points at Travis, who splutters. 

“I didn’t suck his dick! He… sucked mine.” He mumbles, and the other two just stare at him before bursting into laughter. 

“Oh my god, did you at least say no homo?!” Ash cackles, clutching her stomach. 

“I think that’s too much for a no homo, Travis, you might be gay!” Sal snorts, and Travis wants to disappear into the floor. 

“Oh my god. I want to die. Someone kill me.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. 

“Me! Me, I’ll do it.” Ash lunges forward, but Sal catches her, getting between them and pushing her back a bit. She huffs and pouts, climbing up onto the counter and crossing her legs. 

“No murder. Please. Not tonight, at least.” Sal points at both of them accusingly, and Travis just grunts, sitting down on the floor and watching Sal continue to prep their supplies. 

He’s not sure how much time has passed, but he hears the front door slam shut, and Sal squeaks, rushing out of the room, only to return a moment later with a box of bright pink hair dye.   
“Neil delivered!” The blue haired boy hopped excitedly, and Trav jumped to his feet, ready to do something stupid as fuck. 

“Alright, I’ve done this hundreds of times, so you just have to trust me, okay?” He’s prepping the pretty dye in a bowl, mixing it all up with practiced ease. Ashley holds out a towel to Travis, who takes it and puts it around his shoulders so he wouldn’t get dye on Larry’s shirt. 

“Okay.” Travis says, and Sal grins, getting to work.   
It’s slowgoing, and Travis absolutely zones out several times, but Sal is careful as he works, spreading the dye evenly throughout. He’s vaguely aware that Ash has been taking pictures of him, and he wonders if she’s posting them somewhere. Some part of him hopes so, wanting to be on someone’s instagram post about good times with good friends. But he’s sure that’s not what he is to Ash. 

“Okay, timer is set!” Sal washes off his hands in the sink, and Travis sits down on the edge of the tub, clutching the towel around his shoulders. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, looking between Ash and Sal as they wait. 

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this. Like… What’s your dad gonna think?” Sal asks, and Travis takes a shaky breath. 

“He’ll probably freak out. But everything makes him freak out. Better to do something crazy and have him freak out…” He can feel cold beginning to creep into him at his fingertips, crawling up his arms, chilling his blood and making his stomach turn. 

“Hey, don’t start that, Travis…” Suddenly Sal’s got a hand on Trav’s knee as he sits on the floor in front of him, blue eyes staring up at him from behind his mask.   
“You’re okay. You’re safe here. Man… You should just like… Move here. Away from your dad.” 

Travis looks at him, zoning in and out a little, but he gives a slow nod.  
“I… You guys hate me, you don’t have to offer something like that.” He whispers, but Sal merely shakes his head. 

“Shut up, Phelps.” 

 

And he does, falling silent, waiting for the timer to go off.   
Travis glances at his watch, a little shocked that it was already quarter till seven. Larry would be off work soon, and they could all eat dinner and hang out together. He wonders absently what Larry will think of his hair. Would he like it? Would he make fun of him? He worries at his lip, picking at the edge of the towel nervously. He wasn’t having regrets now, was he? 

He zones out again, this time coming to at the sound of the timer going off. Sal pops up from the floor as Ashley moves off the counter, turning off the alarm.   
“Rinse time, Trav.” She’s surprisingly gentle as she grabs down the showerhead and has him kneel over the tub, helping him rinse out the dye. He can see the pale pink water flowing down the drain, and excitement fills him, his heart thundering in his chest.   
He’d really done it. He’d really dyed his hair fucking pink. 

Good lord. 

Once Ash finishes, he sits up, using the towel to squeeze out the remaining water. Sal is at the counter, holding a hairdryer and a brush, and Travis got up, letting Sal do his worst, drying and fluffing his hair. The woosh of the air in his ears is temporarily deafening, but once they’re finished, he looks in the mirror, and he can’t breathe.   
His hair is pink.   
Like, cherry blossom, candy sweet, sticky sugar pink. 

He’s in love with it.   
His hands come up to cover his mouth as he tries to catch his breath, and he turns, looking at Ash, then at Sal, who both give encouraging signs. Ashley even smiles at him. 

“It looks amazing, holy fuck.” Travis whispers, running his fingers through it again, and again, and again. It’s soft and fluffy, and pink! 

“It looks really good, it actually suits you.” Ash smiles warmly, nodding as she observes him. Sal nods as well, the smile evident in his eyes. 

Heavy footfalls distract Travis from his own reflection for a moment, and he turns just as someone new arrives in the bathroom doorway.   
Larry stands there, his hair up, grease smeared across his cheek, and his coveralls and boots still on from the repair shop. He looked really, really good, Travis thought, but the look on his face was incredible. 

His eyes were wide, lips parted as he leaned against the doorframe, looking Travis over with intensity.   
And thank fuck that Sally and Ash take their leave, both of them squeezing out of the room, leaving Larry and Travis alone in the room. Larry steps in, kicking the door shut behind him as he advances on Trav, wetting his lips as he looks him over. 

Larry’s hand moves up slowly, first cupping the boy’s cheek, then letting his hand travel further upward, into the freshly dyed hair. 

“This looks… Really, really good on you. I like it.” Larry murmurs, his voice low and rough, causing a chill to run through Travis as he leans into his touch. 

“I was worried you’d think i was stupid.” He whispers, and Larry chuckles, tightening his grip in his hair, giving a small, experimental tug. 

A soft noise leaves Trav’s lips, and his face flushes a little as the other snorts.   
“And you were making fun of me for having a thing for hair-pulling.” He teases him before he leans down, crushing his lips against Travis’. It’s sweet, not all hot, raging passion, and Travis might actually die. He needs this. He needs to be held, he needs to kiss Larry forever. 

But all too soon, they break apart, and Larry is smoothing his hand over Trav’s hair, trying to get it to lay back down from where he’d fucked it up. 

“C’mon. Neil got some frozen pizzas, and I’m starving. Plus, they’ll get suspicious if we stay in here too long.” Larry hums, kissing Travis’ forehead before he opens the bathroom door, and walks out. Travis is on his heels like a stupid lost puppy, but all he needs is proximity right now. 

He wants to be close to Larry in the worst way.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS AN INCIDENT IN THIS CHAPTER INVOLVING SEXUAL ASSAULT. PLEASE BE AWARE!!!
> 
> There is also smut in this chapter!!! I have marked the beginning and end points, so if you KNOW you shouldn’t read it, skip it.   
> You know who you are. 
> 
> Alright!!! This is a long one, friends!! Hold on tight!!  
> This is a Chapter from Larry’s POV!

The streetlights flickered by as Larry drove, eyes on the road in front of him. It wasn’t much after dusk, lightning bugs only just beginning to glimmer in the bushes along the street.   
His mind was adrift, as usual, the music from the radio low. He has too much to think about. 

That night, with his friends at the house, getting high with all of them, had ended with Travis asleep in his lap, head on his chest, and Larry had felt this intense need to take care of him. Which was crazy, of course.   
The fake dating thing was going really well. This was the third week, and so far, they’d been on five dates out in public, in front of tons of people, and Travis had been confronted by his father about all of them. 

The beatings had stopped too.   
The bruises that’d littered his cheeks were fading to warm pink, and Travis was genuinely happy. It was startling to see the childhood bully ease into a new life like this, becoming so accustomed to these people, this routine. It was good. 

Larry feared, though, that they’d have to stop.   
If things were getting so much better, Travis would stop needing him. Hell, he didn’t need him now.   
But Larry needed him, and that was fucking embarrassing.   
When things got better, Travis would be gone, and Larry would go back to staring at his ceiling every night, praying for sleep to hit him. 

Travis would move on, he would skip town, get a real boyfriend, and forget about Larry Johnson.   
And that would be okay.   
It was never real. 

It felt real, though. 

The whole time he’d been at work that day, he’d been thinking about the stupid blond haired boy that’d fallen asleep in his bed, curled up with his arms by his face, like it was instinct to protect himself, never relaxing. Like he thought he was going to be attacked while he slept.   
Larry wanted to hold him to his chest and chase away anything that even dared to threaten his boy. 

But he wasn’t his boy. 

He was his fake boy, someone that he got to hold and kiss, touch and fuck, but only to sell that act. 

They’d not fucked yet, though. Travis was fine with all the touching and cuddling in the world (he’d even sucked Larry’s dick and only choked once or twice. Okay, five times, but it was still hot. Larry jerked off the image religiously). 

Larry wasn’t a prude. He’d fucked a few people, guys and girls, and he’d been told that he was good - great, even. He’d had his share of good people, too.   
Travis was great. He was delicious, he was soft, and he was better than anyone Larry had ever had.   
And they’d not gone all the way. 

And that…. That was something crazy. 

That was love. 

And that scared the shit out of him. 

 

Larry didn’t know if he would tell him. He felt like that might just complicate things. That could be what made Travis snap, if he wasn’t cautious about it. The blond boy had come so far, he deserved to be happy. Larry couldn’t do this to him. 

So he’d keep his mouth shut. He’d keep to himself and wait for the feelings to chase themselves off. 

He sighs, glancing at his watch. It’s a little past eight, and he’s really hoping that Travis is ready when gets there to pick him up. 

Tonight was going to be a good night.   
There was a house party across town that promised to be pretty fucking awesome. Travis wanted to go, and Larry knew that parties with his friends always turned out pretty wild, so, for a first experience, it was probably alright.   
Travis wouldn’t be out protective sight all night. Sal and Ashley had agreed to keep an eye on him, since he was so inexperienced with the whole underaged drinking and illegal drugs thing. 

Larry takes a deep breath as he starts up the sprawling driveway to the church, Travis’ house laying just beyond.   
He can see it, the porch lights on, a giant wooden cross mounted in the lawn. It makes Larry a little twitchy, being up so far off of the main road, out behind the church. He feels like some bad shit has happened out here, in that house specifically. 

It’s a pretty house, really, a lovely little farmhouse a railing circling the wraparound porch. It’s a cobalt blue in the light of dusk, the trim white, and it looks normal.   
Like nothing fucked up was happening in there. 

Larry pulls up in the driveway and puts the Jeep in park, wondering for a moment how he ought to do this. He elects to go to the door, so he pauses, looking in the mirror to check his face.   
He’s let his hair down tonight, all wild and pushed back. He’s not cut it in several years, so it brushes the small of his back when it’s all down and breezy. It’s a little bit of a chore to take care of, but it’s metal as fuck.   
He’s wearing eyeliner tonight, just enough to accentuate his eyes and make him look slightly less dead. It wasn’t helping much. 

He climbs out of the Jeep, smoothing his hand over the shredded tank top he wore, shifting his leather jacket over it. He’s got on black jeans and his regular boots, and he feels like he looks alright. Just grungy enough. 

Leaving the car running, Larry crosses the rest of the driveway and heads up the steps, relieved that he doesn’t hear any shouting or banging coming from inside. He takes a deep breath, ringing the doorbell before easing back into a more relaxed posture, his hair tossed over his shoulder and his hands in his pockets. 

It takes a few moments, but Larry can hear pounding footsteps approaching the door before wrenching it open, and the boy can feel a cold sense of dread creeping around him. 

The man standing in the doorway is massive, imposing, and cryptic, all sharp angles and darkness, his eyes black, in stark contrast to his son’s blue eyes. His hair was an eerie platinum blond, and he wore a black button down shirt and slacks.   
Preacher Phelps. 

Larry is intimidated, for sure. But he offers him a gap tooth grin, letting it settle into a smirk.   
“Hey, I’m here to pick up my boyfriend.” 

The flare of Phelp’s nostrils shows the rage that he was keeping at bay, and Larry was impressed. He can see the man’s hands curl into fists, but he doesn’t move beyond giving him a smooth, curt smile. 

“I’m afraid you may have the wrong house.” Mr. Phelps’ voice is deep, cold, venomous. But Larry isn’t backing down. 

“No, I’m pretty sure this is the right place. Travis lives here, right? Your son? Pink hair, gorgeous blue eyes, ass for days?” Larry winks at him, and he can see the redness creeping into the man’s pale face as the anger begins to get at him.   
“I’m sure you know him, he’s got this rockin’ body, you know? Every guy’s dream, and-” He’s cut short when Phelps takes a step forward, grabbing Larry by the lapels of his leather jacket, and quite literally pushes the young man down the porch steps and into the gravel driveway. He stumbles, but manages to stay on his feet. 

“You’re filth, Larry Johnson. Lower than dirt. Hell will have you.” Phelps snarls at him, and Larry has to laugh, straightening his jacket. 

“No one is worse than you, Phelps. Not a single fucking person alive.” He flips the man off, but freezes when a blur of pink flies from the door, grabbing him and hauling him towards his jeep. It takes him a second to comprehend that Travis had sprinted from the front door, and was currently dragging him to the car, but Larry laughs, overjoyed at this whole exchange. 

Phelps doesn’t give chase, and as the two clamber into the car, the metalhead leans over, grabbing Travis’ chin between his thumb and forefinger before kissing him hotly, where he knew his father could see him. 

Travis giggles against him, but pushes him off so he can buckle his seatbelt.   
“Go! Go, drive!” He cries, and Larry obliges, flooring it and sending up a mess of gravel as he peels out of the driveway and back towards the main road. 

“Oh my god, you’re fucking crazy!” Travis laughs, and Larry turns his head to get a good look at him, finally. 

He looks good. Really, really good. When didn’t he, though?   
His pale pink hair was all mussed, he was wearing dark wash jeans, and he’d gone for a crop top that looked so good that Larry might have died and gone to heaven. The whole look was capped off with a pink hoodie that kept slipping off the smaller boy’s shoulders, only adding to it. 

Larry wanted to pull over right now and fuck him senseless. But then they’d be even later to the party. 

“You excited?” Larry asks, turning his eyes back to the road as Travis settles back into his seat, putting a hand through his hair to mess it up even further. 

“Yeah, I’m just a little nervous, you know? I hear about all the bad shit that happens at these parties.” The boy replies, and Larry nods. 

“Well, I’m not gonna be getting shitfaced or anything. I might have a couple of drinks, but if shit gets too crazy, we can get out.” He replies, and Travis hums. 

“Sal, Todd, Neil and Ashley are coming together, Sal doesn’t drink anyway, so he’s their designated.” Larry brushes his hair out of his eyes. This shit is important to him, keeping everyone safe and having a plan in case it went south. 

“That’s actually pretty smart, I’m impressed.” Travis smirks a little, reaching over and taking Larry’s hand, lacing their fingers casually. The darker haired boy smiles lightly, shrugging. 

“I’m just trying to make sure no one gets hurt, but still can have fun, you know? So you can get shitfaced, and I’ll drive you home. Not your house, Addison. You’re gonna spend the night at my place.” 

“If I come home drunk, my dad will murder me.” Travis muses, and Larry nods.   
“Are we gonna fuck tonight?” 

That question shoves his mind into a whirl, and Larry clears his throat, trying to clear his mind of all the grubby thoughts that’d just leaped in there. 

“Not if you’re drunk. I’m not in the business of taking advantage of people.” He replies easily, taking a turn into a residential area, rows of nice looking houses on either side. 

“I’ll try not to get drunk then.” Travis mumbles, and Larry can’t help but smirk at him. 

“Alright, Phelps. I believe you.” 

They pull up to the house, and it’s already packed, disco lights flashing in the windows, music pulsing so loud that they can hear it in the Jeep. There are people mulling around in the yard, smoking on the porch, and as Larry parks on the curb, he takes Travis’ hand. 

“Before we go in, I just wanna… Uh… If someone offers you drugs, say fuck no. That shit could be laced. Hold onto your drinks, don’t set them down and don’t let them out of your sight. And…” He chews his lip for a moment, watching Travis as he gives him a look of annoyance. 

“If you’re gonna fool around with someone, use a fucking condom. And make sure you’ve got an exit. If it’s shady, get out. You got it?” Larry hates that he says that. But Travis is his own person. If he wants to fuck someone else, he can. And it’s none of his business. 

Travis is quiet for a moment, just staring at Larry like he’s fucking crazy. 

“Johnson, did your fucking brain fall out? How are we gonna convince people that we’re dating if I fuck someone else?” 

And for some reason, those sharp words actually comfort Larry, and he smirks.   
“I’m just saying. What you do with your dick is your own business.” 

Travis shakes his head, huffing.   
“Larry, can we go in now? As much as I love this conversation, I’m fucking dying. And I don’t want to keep sitting here while you bitch at me like I’m a kid.” The pink haired boy seems aggravated at him, and Larry can’t blame him. 

“Fine, dumbass. Let’s go.” Larry rolls his eyes, climbing out of the Jeep and heading up towards the house. 

“Hey! Fuckwit!” Travis calls after him, jogging to catch up with him, and Larry snorts, pausing to wait up for him.   
“Don’t leave me alone.”

Those words resonate with Larry, and he huffs, rolling his eyes, but he’s thrumming with energy inside, obsessed with the idea that Travis needs him. He takes his hand, lacing their fingers together, and as they climb onto the porch, Larry presses a tender kiss to Trav’s knuckles. 

“It’s gonna be kinda overwhelming in here-“ Larry starts, but the other rolls his eyes, slugging him in the arm sharply. 

“Shut up and let’s go!” 

Larry snorts, shoving open the door and dragging Travis inside. 

Immediately, the pair is assaulted by all of the stimulus that comes with a rager like this.   
The music is deafening, the bass throbbing and going straight to Larry’s heart. He loves that feeling, his bones rattling with the beat.   
Smoke hung throughout the crowd, cigarette and marijuana, filling his lungs and heating him through.   
It was packed completely, hardly any room to even squeeze through, but Larry tugs at Travis’ hand, dragging him through the entryway. The living room on the right holds most of the dancing, people grinding on each other, drinks in hands, it was chaos. The stairwell was full, as they pass by, couples making out on the steps, obviously not caring who saw.   
“Let’s go grab some drinks!” Larry shouts over the music, glancing back at Travis, who looks a little shocked. He nods, though, pressing close to Larry as they shoulder their way through. The flashing lights are a little disorienting, but as they make their way to the kitchen, they find it far less crowded than the initial entry. 

There are only a few other people in the more secluded area, a couple holed up together, making out like there’s no one around. Larry glances back at Travis, smirking as he sees the blush dusting the boy’s cheeks. Fuck, he needs to be drunker, right now.   
Except he wasn’t supposed to get drunk. Hell, he was just gonna have to fantasize about making out with Travis, fucking him senseless. And somehow, not popping a too obvious boner. 

The pink haired boy leans against the counter as Larry releases him to fix him a drink from the assortment of liquor bottles on the counter. He’s intent on making him something strong for his first drink, and he kinda wants to see his reaction.   
Fixing an amazing cocktail, Larry gets himself a beer instead before heading back over to Travis, handing the red solo cup over.   
“Go slow, alright? Don’t slam it!” He calls over the bass, and Travis nods as he takes it, sniffing it first before pulling an unpleasant face. 

“Come on, just drink!” 

So he does, taking a long drink from the cup, but he chokes, the burning liquid too much for his fragile self. Larry can’t help but laugh, sipping his beer before patting Trav’s back gently. 

“You’ll get used to it!” 

“Christ, that’s horrible!” Travis sticks his tongue out, right before taking another sip. He takes this one better, only grimacing this time.   
“It’s… less horrible.” 

“The more you drink, the drunk you get, the better it tastes!” Larry replies, nudging him gently.   
Travis snorts, rolling his eyes a little as he looks around. 

“Sal is here, right? Where’s he?” Travis asks, and Larry nods, glancing around. 

“I’ll go look around for him! You wait here, okay?” Larry replies, and Travis nods, just a little shakily. Larry smiles, kissing Trav’s temple before he’s off into the fray, leaving the pink haired boy all on his own. 

—————————

As soon as Larry leaves him alone in the kitchen, Travis slams the rest of that drink in his hand before crumpling up the cup, trying to get his heart rate under control. Fucking hell, it was loud in here. 

Larry was being so goddamn affectionate tonight, it was killing Travis. Every touch, every kiss, everything that he did was burning him alive. He was obsessed. 

And now, being left without him, Travis felt exposed and alone. 

“Hey there, gorgeous.” 

The pink haired boy jumps a little at the sight of the guy who’d just entered the kitchen. He’s huge, obviously a football player, muscled beyond belief. He’s wearing a flannel shirt, unbuttoned, exposing his toned chest and stomach. His hair was jet black, eyes cold blue, and his imposing form made Travis feel small. 

“Uh… Hey.” He mumbles, not wanting to give this guy the wrong impression. 

“You’re the preacher’s son, right? What the fuck are you doing here?” The other slides right up beside him as he leans against the counter, and Travis scoots away a bit. 

“I’m here with my boyfriend.” 

The guy laughs.   
“Boyfriend? I don’t see no boyfriend, sweetheart.” 

“He went to go find out friends, he… he’s coming right back!” 

The guy moves closer still, and Travis swallows hard. 

“You sure about that, gorgeous? I think I could treat you just as good, if not better than any guy here. You wanna let me have a try at ya?” 

“No.” It doesn’t even take a second, and Travis is squared up, fuming, despite the fear that was bolting through him.   
But the man doesn’t get it, and suddenly, he’s got the smaller boy cornered, and there’s a hand on his ass, grabbing him roughly, too roughly. Travis cries out, trying to shove at his chest, but it’s no good.   
“Get off of me! Get the fuck away, you fucking creep! I’ll fucking kill you-“ and he’s silenced by a pair of lips on his, kissing him harshly, teeth knocking against his lips. Travis tastes blood in his mouth and he tries to shout, tries to get away, but the fucker is strong, and unrelenting. 

“He said fuck off!” And suddenly, Travis is freed as the creep is ripped off of him. The guy hits the floor, and Travis is freaking out, heart pounding. He wants to scream, he wants to throw up, he wants Larry- 

But Larry is currently busy beating the shit out of the guy who’d just had his paws all over him. Ash is helping, of course, kicking him relentlessly, and all Travis can do is watch with wide, petrified eyes, until he feels someone cupping his face, gently guiding his eyes away until a mask comes into view. 

“Travis? Hey, are you in there? It’s okay, it’s alright, he’s not gonna hurt you-“ Sal is hushing him gently, and Travis doesn’t know what comes over him. He’s desperate for comfort, wrapping his arms around Sal and burying his face in the smaller boy’s shoulder. Sal doesn’t waste a second, pulling him into a protective embrace, rubbing his back to keep him distracted from Larry and Ash beating the shit out of his assailant.   
It takes a few minutes, but the sound of ass kicking stops, and when Travis dares to look again, they’re hauling away that disgusting freak, beaten and bloody now. It makes Travis’ stomach turn, and he whimpers, only to be hushed gently by Sal.   
“Hey, Larry is coming back, he’s gonna come get you.” He promises, and Trav’s fragile mind tells him to nod. 

“I-I need a fuckin… I need a drink, all I can taste is that creep’s mouth on me.” He pulls away, going for the bottles on the counter. He’s shaking like a leaf, not thinking straight, hands trembling as he tries to pour himself a cup of whatever the fuck he can reach.   
Sal follows him, taking the bottle out of his hand, pouring it for him.   
“Here, get the taste out of your mouth.” The blue haired boy says gently, and Travis sighs, thanking him under his breath before he knocks back the brown liquid, hissing a little as it burned down his throat. Sal pours him another, and he drinks again, feeling the sting on his lip. He raises his finger, brushing over it, and he grimaces as he realizes that it’s busted from that fucker forcing himself on him. 

Fuck. 

His stomach turns, and he thinks he might get sick, but he jumps when he hears thundering footsteps racing back to the kitchen, and suddenly Larry is in the doorway. 

Travis doesn’t know why he does it, but he drops the cup and runs to him, hugging him tightly and hiding his face in Larry’s chest, inhaling his scent. Cigarette smoke, beer, sweat, and cheap cologne, but it was so comforting for Travis that honestly felt better being near him. 

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have left you alone, Travis, I’ve got you.” Larry growls in his ear, arms tight around him, protective, warm.   
“Did he hurt you?” 

“Busted my lip, grabbed my ass. That’s it, though. Scared me, more than anything.” Travis mumbles, looking up at him with soft eyes. 

“Fucking hell. I can’t believe that shithead had to ruin this thing for you. I’m sorry, Trav…” 

“He didn’t ruin it, I… I don’t want to leave. I wanna get drunk, and I wanna dance. So I’m gonna do that, and you’re gonna watch me so that shit doesn’t happen again. You got it?” Travis is assertive, putting his foot down and pouting at him, like a proper fucking brat. 

—————

Larry can’t help but smirk at Travis, despite the anger that had been burning through him just moments ago. He just radiated brat energy, and Larry couldn’t help but think that Travis might get off on it.   
After what he’d just been though, though, he can’t imagine the other boy would want to be touched.   
Larry is curious with himself. He knew better than to leave Travis alone in a place like this. No one should be alone in a place like this. But Travis was okay, he seemed to be not so emotionally scarred, and Larry is okay with that. So he nods, going to make Travis another drink, looking at Sal as he goes to the counter. 

“Sorry, Sal.” Larry smiles sheepishly, knowing how much Sal hated violence, but the blue haired boy shrugged. 

“I woulda stabbed him if it had been me.” He replies. Larry nods understandingly.   
Sal looked good tonight, wearing a cute little black dress with leggings and boots, his hair down. He knew Sal had had to defend himself a fair number of times. 

Dickheads with no impulse control. 

Larry and Sal both watch as Travis slams his drink, wincing a little before he shakes himself off, and points to the living room. 

“I want to dance.” He mutters, and Sal nods, grabbing the pink haired boy by the wrist and dragging him from the kitchen and into the mass of people. 

It’s then that Ashley comes back from wherever the hell she’d wandered off to, now with a few more hickeys. Larry stands on the living room wall, motioning her over. 

“Hey, you took forever. What were you doing, burying the guy?!” He asks, and she laughs. 

“Nah! I met this really nice girl and her boyfriend. They were both super hot!” She points at her neck, and Larry high fives her. 

“Hell yeah, Ash.” 

“How is he?” She looks over at Larry, following his line of sight to where Travis and Sal were moving to the throbbing beat. 

“He’s okay. Shaken up.” He replies, eyes never leaving him. 

“...You need to tell him.” Ash says, and Larry’s eyes snap to her. 

“Tell him?” 

“That you’re in love with him. It’s obvious, Lar. I know I’ve got opinions about the guy, but… He makes you happy, and he needs to know that it’s more than a game for you!” Ash elbows him, and Larry huffs, knowing that denying it was pointless. 

“It’s a game for him, Ash, it’s stupid!” He snaps back. 

“You’re gonna fuck him, right? Because he’s gonna ask you to, and you’re gonna say it’s just a favor for a friend, and you’re gonna be heartbroken, and so is he. Don’t be a dumb shit, Johnson!! Just nut up and talk to him!” The girl responds, and Larry just groans, motioning over to the two boys. 

“Look, they’re having fun, alright? I’ll talk to Travis when he’s sober.” He rolls his eyes, snorting. Ashley just huffs, leaning on the wall beside him, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Larry stays posted as a bodyguard for his friends for the rest of the night, being a proper wallflower rather than joining into the dancing. And yeah, he gets hit on, but when he tells them that he’s there with his boyfriend, who he’d then point out in the crowd, they’d respect it and back off. It was pretty crazy. Ashley and Travis were both drinking, but thankfully they were pacing themselves. That meant jack shit, though, because Travis was shit faced. Larry knows that he’s got good eyes watching him, though.   
He only loses sight of his friends once or twice, when he sneaks off to the bathroom to take a piss, or out to the porch for a cigarette.   
They’re both good excuses to think everything over, to think about the way that he’d not even processed anything when he’d seen that guy on Travis. 

It’d been pure instinct that he’d lunged into it, pulled that guy off him and busted him up. His knuckles were split and bruised, they hurt like a bitch, but he’d do it again in a heartbeat if Travis needed protecting. 

He exhales his last lungful of smoke, puts out the butt of his cigarette on the porch railing, and heads back inside to find his friends.   
They’re in the living room still, easy to spot with their obnoxious hair colors. 

As soon as Larry lays eyes on Travis, he can tell that he’s had too much. He’s swaying, tripping over his own feet, using Sal as leverage to keep himself up. He seems agitated, a little combative, as Ashley struggles with him, trying to wrench a red solo cup from Trav’s hand.   
But when the pink haired boy sees Larry, his demeanor changes entirely. 

“Oh, my god, Larry!” He gasps, shoving off of Sal and breaking into a shaky run. He trips over his own sneakers, though, and Larry ends up catching him so he doesn’t end up kissing the hardwood floor.   
“I missed you, I haven’t seen you all fucking night- Man, I wanted to dance with you, but I couldn’t find you!” The words are slurred a bit, too fast, too weird. And Larry chuckles, holding him upright. 

“I’ve been around, Trav, you looked like you were having fun.” 

“I’ve had so much fun, holy shit! Sal is a great dancer, and Ash - Ash, you took my fucking drink!” The boy tries to whirl around to face the girl, but he sways, woozy. 

“I don’t think you need any more, Carebear. You’ve had a lot, huh?” Larry is so amused by this marshmallow in his arms, his chest all warm and tingly. 

“Yeah… Yeah.” Blue eyes creep up to meet brown, and Travis smiles blearily. 

“I'm sorry if I come off strong, and it could be that you're all wrong…for me, but I just had to see,” He’s singing to him, but they’re not the words to the song that blares through the crowded house. Larry is a little impressed, and he leans down so he could hear Travis better. The boy smiles, nuzzling against Larry’s jaw. 

“Cause you are broken, and I am such a wreck. I think we'd make a lovely mess…” 

They’re so close, and it’s so gentle, and Larry might actually burst into flames. But it’s at that moment, of course, that Travis’ knees buckle, and Larry damn near hits the floor as the other boy turns to dead weight in his arms.   
Fucking lightweight. 

Sal jumps in to help, but Larry scoops Travis up easily, only huffing a little.   
“Help me get him into the car, I’m gonna take him back to Addison.” He says, and Sal nods without hesitation, taking the keys from Larry’s pocket before leading the way out to the Jeep. 

Travis actually looks peaceful like this, passed out asleep in Larry’s arms. He’s sticky and sweaty, smells of liquor, but it’ll be alright. Larry plans on waking him up to take a shower when they get back to the apartment anyway. 

Sal opens the passenger side door for him once they reach the car, and Lar eases the pink haired boy in, leaning over and buckling the seatbelt across his limp body. 

“Thanks, Sally Face. For everything tonight. Watching him, taking care of him.” 

“You’re welcome, Larry Face. He’s… actually not terrible to be around. He’s not a massive prick anymore.” Sal nods thoughtfully.   
“I’m gonna go back in and make sure the others aren’t being too awful. Take care of your boyfriend, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sal winks. 

“Text me when you get home!” Larry calls after his friend as he heads up the lawn, and back into the house.   
Larry sighs, checking his watch.   
It’s 10:15. Two fucking hours, and Travis was already out. 

Incredible. 

———————- 

Larry lets him sleep it off a little bit, laying him on the couch once they’d gotten back to his apartment. In the hour and a half he’d let boy sleep, Larry had time to think. And think he did. He thought about Travis, about everything they could have. Everything they could be. It hurt his heart and made his chest tight. 

He’d gathered from Sal’s texts that a) he was still at the party, and b) Travis hadn’t actually had that much to drink. They shouldn’t have let him have what he did, of course, it was his first time, after all. 

Around midnight, Larry wanders over to the lump of teenage boy on his couch, smiling fondly. His crop top was rucked up over his stomach, over his chest as well. His jeans rode low, the V of his stomach looking absolutely heavenly. Larry sighed softly, leaning down and shaking him gently.   
“Travis. Hey, Trav…” He whispered, but the boy merely groaned and swatted at him.   
“Hey, Carebear, wake up. Hey, baby, cmon…” Baby? Where the fuck had baby come from? Holy shit. 

Travis whined as he pried open his eyes, glowering at Larry, who only smirked in reply. 

“Hey, party boy. Still drunk?” He asks, and Travis merely sighs, shrugging.   
“I dunno. Don’t feel like it… my head hurts, though.” 

“Mm. I’ll make you some toast and grab some aspirin.” Larry replies, heading back to the kitchen. 

By the time he gets back, Travis is asleep again, so Larry rolls his eyes, grabbing him by the wrist and hauling him upright.   
Travis groans in irritation, trying to pull away, but Larry sets the plate in his lap and presses the pills into his hand. 

“Come on, you need a shower before you can sleep in my bed.” 

That seems to get Trav’s attention, because he’s good after that, popping the pills and eating quickly, though he keeps his eyes rather squinted, blocking the light.   
He stands up when he’s finished, stretching a little and only stumbling a bit. 

“Will you shower with me?” Travis asks, and Larry short circuits a moment. 

“Are you still drunk?” 

“No, I’m not. Look at me.” Travis glowers at him, and Larry has to admit that he looks pretty sober.   
Huh. 

“Fine. I’ll shower with you.” He mutters.   
— 

“Will you fuck me?” 

Now that makes Larry freeze up entirely. He looks at him, studying him, weighing the pros and cons.   
Does he want to fuck him? Absolutely.   
And Travis wants him to. 

But what about his heart? What about where this could lead? Certainly heartache. Certainly pain. 

But Larry can’t help it.   
He nods. 

Travis grins, taking him by the hand and pulling him along to the bathroom like it was fucking natural. 

“It’s been a really good night already, Larry. Really. I mean, even when that guy…” He falters, the smile flickering on his lips. Larry frowns, pulling him to his chest and kissing him sweetly, over that split in his lip, over the trembling nervousness, and when Travis starts reciprocating, Larry knows he’s on the right track.   
He pulls away briefly as he shed his own jacket, tank top, jeans, and briefs, kicking them away in a pile. He’s not embarrassed of being naked in front of Travis anymore- after all, they’d sucked each other off a few times. 

Travis watches him fondly, his embarrassment was non existent at this point, as he stripped himself down. 

Sure, he was self conscious of his scars, but Larry was always so gently, borderline worshipful of him. He always paid special attention to scars and bruises, pressing kisses to them like he could kiss them away. 

In a way, Larry had provided him with the healing he craved. He needed it, the gentleness and loving touches. 

Right now, with his hands on his bare flesh, Larry was going to ease him of his pain. 

The darker haired boy pulled him to his chest, kissing him hotly, their bodies moulding together perfectly. Travis was already half hard, and Larry couldn’t help but smirk at that. It wasn’t hard to turn him on, not at all. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Travis.” Larry moves to suck a dark mark into Trav’s throat, reveling in the beautiful sound the boy made. Heavenly. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, I promise.” 

Travis whimpered at that, and now, Larry can feel his erection grinding against his belly. He grins, nipping at the boy’s lip before he slipped his tongue into his mouth, rubbing it along the other boy’s as though wrestling. He groaned hotly against him, reaching down to jerk himself a couple times, to bring himself to full hardness. 

“You want me to fuck you here or the bedroom?” Larry groans as Travis pulls away to nip at Larry’s chest, leaving his own marks there. 

“I don’t care, I just need you.” Trav whispers, and Larry moans, gripping a handful of the boy’s cherry blossom hair. He cries out deliciously, and Larry takes the opportunity to nip at his throat, letting him feel the little stings of pain. He knows Travis likes a little pain. 

He releases him after a moment, daring to let his finger slide down over his ass, cupping and squeezing the flesh there, pulling it apart so that he could feel the tight ring of muscle there. He pauses, meeting Travis’ eyes. The boy blushes furiously, dropping his gaze. 

“I fingered myself earlier… To make this easier.” 

And fuck if Larry’s dick didn’t twitch at that.   
“Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot.” He groans, kissing him deeply before pulling away to rummage in the cabinet under the sink. It takes him a moment to find what he’s looking for, but he does, and Larry rights himself, a condom packet and a small bottle of lube in hand. 

Travis blushes even deeper, his heart rate picking up. This was actually happening.   
Larry kisses him once more, a gentle, lingering kiss, before he’s fumbling with the foil pack, tearing it open and pulling out the rubber, rolling it down over his cock. Travis watches, wetting his lips in anticipation. 

Larry moves on to the lube, squirting a generous amount into his hands before rubbing them together. With one hand, he slicks up his cock, the action making him bite down hard on his lip, eyes on Travis. 

“Turn around for me, over the sink.” He breathes, and Travis complied quickly, only jumping a bit when Larry uses his other hand to apply the lube to his hole, his fingers slipping into him and out of him so easily that his knees shook.   
He took two fingers easily, then three, and Larry has had enough of teasing him, he pulls his fingers out of him, groaning softly. 

“Are you ready, baby?” Larry whispers, kissing just beneath Travis’ ear. The boy nods, and Larry slowly, cautiously pushes the head of his cock into the other. Travis’ whole body goes rigid at the intrusion, and he cries out a little, but he grips the sink tightly, moaning out Larry’s name. 

The taller boy slides in further, inch by inch, and Travis takes him so fucking well that he might actually die. The tightness, the slickness, the heat - holy fuck.   
He’s bottomed out in Travis, holding still and careful as the boy’s chest heaves, back arching as he struggles to adjust. 

“Y-your f-fucking cock, I-its so big, what the fuck, Larry…” Travis whines, his head falling forward to rest on his arms. 

“Heh… sorry, I-It’s a curse.” Larry teases, only to receive an elbow to the ribs. He grimaces, and gives a snap of his hips in retaliation. 

The noise that Travis made should have been fucking illegal. It was beautiful, hot, dripping in arousal, and Larry couldn’t help it.   
He pulled nearly all the way out before snapping his hips back in, relishing In the sound of skin on skin.   
Travis moans again, head falling backwards as Larry’s hands found their place on Trav’s hips, and soon, their rhythm was born. It’s easy and natural, no obnoxiously rough thrusts, no dirty talk, just plain old fucking, chasing down orgasms. 

Travis whimpers and moans with every thrust, his cock diamond hard as it bounced against his belly, Precum dripping from it constantly. He moves a hand down to jerk himself, but finds his hand is soon covered by one of Larry’s, jerking his cock in slow, languid strokes as his hips worked in and out of Travis. The way that Travis was tightening around him, Larry could tell that he wouldn’t last long, so she shifts his angle and gives an experimental thrust, grinning at the cry of pleasure he earned as his cock brushed that spot inside of the pink haired boy. 

“M-More, Larry, more, please! Oh g-god, I’m so close, please-“ It’s a string of pleas now as Larry wraps his free arm around Trav, feeing his own release creeping up. 

“Come on, Trav, Yeah, fuck, cmon…” Larry pants as he picks up the pace, thrusting harder, more desperately, and it only takes a few more pistons of his hips before he feels Travis tighten completely, his cum shooting over Larry’s hand and his stomach. He cries out in pleasure, head falling back against Larry’s shoulder as he pulls the other boy flush to his chest. 

His thrusts only grow more erratic from there, breath coming in short pants before he’s falling over the edge, seeing stars as he comes, filling the condom with his release as he bites a deep mark into Trav’s shoulder. 

They both stay there for a moment, trying to catch their breaths, before Larry slips out of him, tying off the condom and tossing it in the trash. He groans softly, yanking Travis upright and spinning him around so that he could kiss him hotly.   
“Fuck, you were amazing, Trav… I’m sorry I took your virginity in a bathroom, though.” 

Travis just laughs, kissing Larry slowly, sweetly, drowsily. He’s cuddly now, and Larry is more than happy to hold him to his chest, kissing his shoulders, his neck, anywhere he could possibly reach. He can’t get enough of him. 

This is good.   
And Larry is fucked for him. 

________

They shower together, after it all, Larry doing most of the work as he washed Travis, who kept dozing off under the spray of the shower head. 

It’d been a truly crazy night, but Larry is glad for where they’ve ended up. 

He just prays it won’t go sour from here.


	6. Chapter 6

As it came to be, fucking Larry had awakened something new in Travis. Turns out, he was quite the slut. Not that Larry would call him that ; Travis knew how fucking careful Johnson was. Travis wanted to be manhandled, and the other treated him like glass.   
Well… He was reverent. He was gentle, and he was sweet, and that was killing Travis. Why couldn’t he just slap him and call him a little whore? At least then, it might be a little harder for him to fall in love with him. 

And yet.   
Travis felt it more every time he saw Larry. The way his dark hair was constantly falling in his eyes, the way his tongue would dart out to wet his lips after taking a drag on a cigarette, the way he would fucking kiss Travis for no good reason - he claimed that he was bored, and Travis didn’t mind, but fuck if he wasn’t confused. 

They fucked like rabbits.   
Any time they were alone for long enough, there were orgasms involved. Larry loves to finger Travis, spreading him open until he was begging for his cock. It was probably more about the begging than the fingering, for him, but fuck, his fingers were so long. And Travis, as proud as he was, would absolutely beg for him. 

Un-fucking-fortunately, Larry was gentle. And it was so obvious that he was holding back for Travis, not wanting to hurt him or anything, and that was great. It was considerate, and kind, but Travis wanted to be fucking railed until he couldn’t walk. 

He had a plan, though. 

It was very simple - Travis knew how hot and bothered Larry got when the pink haired boy wore his clothes. He was incredibly possessive, he loved to leave his mark on him, loved when people could see that Travis belonged to him. Well, fake belonged, of course.   
(Everyone in Nockfell knew about the Preacher’s boy and the metalhead. It was beautiful to see the way the gossipy old women pointed and whispered whenever Larry and Travis would pass by with arms around each other)

Travis’s plan involved stealing a hoodie. This part was a success, it was easy enough. 

He’d gotten it back to his house, stashing it in his closet so that, when his father inevitably came in to question him, to oversee him praying, he wouldn’t suspect.   
He wasn’t beating him anymore, and that was more terrifying than not. It had stopped so suddenly, there was no relief in it. He just had a bad feeling that something worse was coming. 

Anyway. 

It’d been a week and a half since that fateful night of the party, the first time he’d really been with Larry physically, and Travis was ready to make his move.   
He heads over to Larry’s, playing his plan over and over in his head, ready to surprise the other boy.   
The hoodie was in his backpack, his hair freshly dyed, and he was buzzing with anticipation. 

The walk only takes a few minutes, but he’s got his phone out the whole time. 

[from: Carebear]: I’m omw

[from: Carebear]: goin in the back door

[from: dumbass]: hey that’s my job >:( 

[from: Carebear]: fuck you, pervert 

[from: dumbass]: hurtful 

[from: dumbass]: you’re a prick 

[from: Carebear]: you’re not getting any today

[from: dumbass]: D:

That was a lie, Larry was absolutely getting some. 

Travis sighs, sliding his phone back into his pocket as he nears the creepy apartment building, moving to go around the building, but pausing when he saw a familiar blue haired boy on the porch.   
The bottom buckles of his mask were undone, and he was seated on the step, a cigarette between his fingers. He glances up, waving at Travis as the boy neared. 

“Hey, Trav. What a surprise.” Sal teases him, and Travis merely flips him off, wrinkling his nose. 

“Yeah, Yeah, sure. I’m just bored.” He replies. 

He can see the mischievous glint in the other’s eyes.   
“You mean horny, right?” 

Travis sputters, a hot blush rising on his cheeks.   
“W-What? Fuck, no, that’s not-“ 

“Travis, Larry tells me everything, you don’t need to freak out. It’s normal.” Sal shrugs, pushing up his mask a little to take a drag, and Travis catches a glimpse of the webbing of scars across the boy’s chin and lips, as well as his torn upper lip. He can see exposed gum and teeth there, and he looks away quickly, feeling like he was seeing something he shouldn’t. 

“You’re allowed to look. If you make fun of me, Ash will kill you.” Sal mumbles, and Travis swallows hard, shaking his head.   
“I’m not… Like that anymore. I wouldn’t do that to you.” He clears his throat, looking at the boy, who’d lowered the mask again, letting the smoke curl out of the eye and nose holes. 

“You’re my friend. Right?” The words taste so foreign on the pink haired boy’s lips, but Sal nods quickly. 

“Course I am. You did get drunk and lay all over me, after all. I’d say we’re pretty close.” He can hear the smile in the other boy’s voice, and he has to laugh. 

“Cool. Hey, I… I’m gonna run, but I’ll see you later, okay?” He waves as Sal nods, and he’s off again, hurrying around the side of the building towards the back entrance. 

The tree house still stands there, some of the wood much newer than the rest, since Larry insisted on restoring it. It was cool, Travis thought. 

He heads down the stairs, banging on the door loudly, hearing the obnoxious music blaring inside again. Much to his relief, the sound dulls, and it’s pulled open. Larry stands there, looking Travis over with a smirk. 

“Hey.” The smaller boy greets him. He looks quite plain today, wearing a polo shirt and khakis, but it’s all a ruse. 

Larry, on the other hand, is wearing those signature torn up jeans, but the shirt is what gets him.   
It’s got a kitten on it, surrounded by flowers, with the word “DOOM” scrawled on it. 

Travis just blinks at him for a moment, resisting the urge to scream at how fucking cute that shit was. 

Larry stands aside, a silent invitation to come in, and Travis slips by, making sure that he brushed against Larry gently. 

“Are we fucking, or actually hanging out today?” Larry asks as he shuts the door behind them, and Travis shrugs, feigning indifference. 

“Well, alright, then. Pick a movie on my laptop, I’ll go grab snacks. Cool?” 

He nods, smiling with an air of innocence, and Larry heads out- 

And Travis leaped into action, stripping out of his clothes, stuffing them into his backpack before whipping out Larry’s hoodie, yanking it on over his naked body. 

He moves to sit on Larry’s bed now, first laying out, but that doesn’t seem natural enough. He tries his side, but that feels too much like Titanic, so he switches again. 

He flips up onto his knees, grimacing a little as he hears the other heading back towards the room, so he settles with sitting on his haunches, thighs against his calves, his hands between his thighs, and the hoodie sliding down his shoulders. He’s not sure if he looks good, but he’s out of time. The doorknob turns, and Larry nudges it open, holding a couple of beers and bag of Doritos.   
“We’re running low, so this is all we have. Maybe we should go to the store late-“ And he cuts off as his eyes fall on the boy on his bed. 

His mouth falls open, and Travis feels the blush burning over his cheeks, down his neck and on his chest. Larry sets down the food, and he approaches, his thumb brushing over his own lip as he looks at him thoughtfully. 

“That my jacket?” He asks, and Travis smiles a little. 

“Uh Huh.” He breathes. 

“I been good or something?” 

“Uh Huh.” 

“Something different about this?” He takes another step forward, and Travis sits up on his knees, wetting his lips. 

“I want you to fuck me. Not… not like usual, I want it hard, and rough.” The words sound so stupid to him, and he wants to shrink away, but Larry cups his cheek. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you. You sure about this?” He asks, voice low, gravelly. 

Travis nods.   
“I want you to hurt me. A little, at least.” He whispers, leaning into the touch before taking his hand, and moving it to his throat. 

Larry’s eyes widen, but he gets the point, tightening his fingers just a bit, not nearly enough to cut off air flow. Travis is flooded with relief, flushing deeply and letting out a desperate little noise, his cock hardening against his belly. 

“Look at you. Already hard. You came over here just for this, didn’t you?” Larry purrs softly against his ear, his free hand moving down to wrap around Trav’s cock. The boy whimpered, nodding slightly. 

“God, you’re leaking for me too? What a little slut.” Larry hisses. 

Something in Travis stutters unpleasantly, and he swallowed hard.   
“No.” He whispers softly, and Larry freezes. 

“Was that too much?” The other boy whispers, and Trav nods slightly.   
“I’m… Not a slut. I don’t fuck around.” He looks up at Larry, who nods, leaning forward and pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to his lips. 

“I got it. You’re just like this for me.” He winks, making Travis snort and shove at him lightly. 

“Take off your shirt, dumbass.” He hisses, pleased when Larry does as he’s asked, stepping back and yanking it over his head, tossing it somewhere in the room before he’s back on Travis, kissing him feverishly, obviously eager to get back on track. 

“Come on, baby, I gotta get inside of you.” He hisses, nudging him to lay back on the bed. Travis goes easily, really looking forward to seeing just what Larry looked like when he let loose.   
He leans over to the side table, grabbing the bottle of lube from the drawer and clicking the lid open, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers. 

“Relax for me, honey.” He whispers, and the pet name makes Travis whimper, letting his muscles go slack.   
The first intrusion of Larry’s finger is a familiar burn, something that Travis craved. He pushes in to the second knuckle, thrusting lazily a few times, listening to the little puffs of air that the pink haired boy gave. Another finger is soon added, and Travis bites his lip, whimpering deliciously. 

“Please…” He breathes softly, and Larry chuckles softly, kissing his inner thigh sweetly. 

“Do better.” Larry growls, and suddenly he’s got another finger in him, scissoring and spreading them to stretch Travis out. The smaller boy cries out, pulling the hoodie he wore over his mouth and nose, inhaling Larry’s scent. His cock was achingly hard now, and Travis couldn’t help it. His hips arched up on the bed as Larry’s fingers brushed that bundle of nerves within him. 

“Oh, god, fuck, fuck me, Larry, please! Please, I need it!” 

That didn’t even sound like his own voice, but he didn’t care. He was so ready. 

Larry chuckles, pulling his fingers from the boy, not really feeling like torturing him right now, and he goes to the bedside table, pulling out a condom wrapper. 

“Stay like that, on your back.” He directs as he sheds his jeans and underwear, kicking them aside before rolling the condom on. 

“You’re sure you want me rough?” 

“Don’t be nice to me.” Travis whimpers, looking up at him, eyes blown dark.   
“Fuck you like you hate me.” 

A look passed Larry’s face, a sad, troubled expression, but he nods, leaning down to kiss him before he lines himself up.   
“If I hurt you, you need to fucking stop me. You understand?” 

Travis nods desperately, his legs around Larry’s hips, trying to pull him closer. 

“Words, Travis.” Larry is so serious, and Travis just groans. 

“Yeah! Yeah, I understand, just fuck me!” He whines, and Larry smirks, before he’s thrusting in, filling Travis completely in just one stroke. 

The boy screams out, and Larry groans, hesitating a moment, but Travis squirms, grabbing for him, and Larry huffs, pulling out, nearly completely, before he snaps his hips right back against him.   
It knocks the air straight from Trav’s lungs, and he gasps out.   
“Y-Yes, fuck, please…” He whines, and Larry finds his pace in brutal thrusts, his fingers gripping into Travis’s thighs hard enough to bruise. The boy writhed beneath him, his mind pudding as he’s slammed into again, and again, and again. His cock is hard, flushed, and dripping against his abs.   
Larry is unyielding, his hair sticking to his face with sweat as he works, panting hard. Soon, he’s planted one hand beside Trav’s head to give himself better leverage, dragging his cock against that spot inside Travis that has him screaming out in desperation. 

“Fuck, Larry, fuck! Right there, don’t stop, I’m gonna come!” Travis sobs, his hand coming up to knot in the boy’s hair, tugging sharply, desperately. 

And Larry can’t bear to disappoint him. He leans down, kissing him to muffle the moans as Travis comes hard, back arching up against Larry, his come shooting over the both of their bellies. His mind is in a cloud, muscles still tended, but he can feel Larry fucking him faster, harder, until he lets out a feral growl, biting down hard on Trav’s shoulder as he comes, spilling into the condom.   
Travis sobs, the pain flaring across his collarbone, but it’s so fucking good. It’s intimate, and it’s perfect, and real fucking tears are spilling down his cheeks as he clings to Larry. He’s fucked out, he’s aching, but he feels amazing. 

“I don’t hate you, Travis. I can’t.” Larry’s lips brush against his ear as he whispers, and it only makes the boy sob harder, latching onto him. 

They stay that way for a while, letting Travis recuperate. He feels like an exposed nerve, fragile, electric all over, but he just needs to be held and coddled for a moment. He knows that this is aftercare, that this is too damn tender for a casual fuck. It’s ripping him apart.

Larry finally pulls out and gets rid of the condom before he’s cleaning them both up and shifting them beneath the covers, properly cuddled up now.   
“I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?” Larry asks, his fingers trailing over the punctures from his teeth. Travis shakes his head, turning and nuzzling into the boy’s chest. He swallows hard, feeling himself beginning to tremble. This was it, wasn’t it? The inevitable? It was about to spill over- 

“Larry?” Travis whispers, his voice shaking. He feels lightheaded, flushed a little. 

The other boy pulls back a little, their eyes meeting.  
“You okay, Travis?” He asks gently, and the pink haired boy thinks he might explode. 

“I’m in love with you.” 

The words hang heavy in the air, echoing around them, and when Travis doesn’t immediately respond, he thinks he’s going to throw up. Oh, god. Fucking hell. 

He shoves away from Larry, getting out of the bed and grabbing his backpack, pulling his pants out of the bag and starting to pull them on.   
“I’m sorry, I know I fucked this up, it was supposed to just be fun, and I shouldn’t have said anyth-” Without warning, Larry is out of the bed, and kissing Travis, hard. He’s stunned, and he drops his pants back on the floor, Larry’s hoodie the only thing on his body. 

“Thank fuck. I love you, you moron.” Larry pulls away for just a minute.   
“You know how much it sucks to have to pretend it’s casual when I fuck you? Or when I touch you, or take care of you? Shit, this… I don’t think it’s been fake for me this entire time. When I realized you were actually cool, that you weren’t a prick? I think I’ve been ass over teakettle for you for two goddamn months.” The metalhead cups his cheek, and Travis leans into his touch, tears streaming down his face now. 

“God, you’re so fucking stupid, Johnson, you let me treat you like shit… You let me act like an idiot, why didn’t you just tell me?” Travis whispers, resting his forehead against Larry’s. The other just laughs, kissing him slowly, sweetly. 

“I’d do anything for you, Travis.”

It’s so surreal, to finally admit it to Larry that he loved him. He felt like he could finally breathe, like everything was going to be okay. They’d be okay, right?   
Of course they would. It wasn’t a game anymore, this was real, for both of them. And it was okay. 

They fuck again, after that. They spend all day together, curled up in the safety of each other’s bodies until they’re both sore and sticky, covered in hickies and love bites. 

They shower together, too. They’re too goddamn cuddly, but Travis just doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to take the risk that this is a dream, and that if he lets go, it’ll all slip away. He can’t bear that thought. 

As the warm water runs over their bodies, Larry holds Travis to his chest as he washes his hair.   
“You wanna go to the mall?” He asks, and Travis looks up, shrugging a little. 

“What for?” He mumbles. 

“I wanna show you my favorite record shop. C’mon… We can get frozen yogurt…” He sing songs, knowing that dessert was always the way to Trav’s heart. And he’s right, because the boy agrees, kissing at Larry’s neck gently. 

And if they have another quicky in the shower, no one needed to know. 

__________________________

“Okay, you’re doing really well, but you’re going about thirty below the speed limit. You just need to speed up a little more.” 

Travis is doing his best. Somehow, he’d let Larry convince him to drive to the mall. It wasn’t a long drive, and the road there was mostly straight, but he was still very hesitant. And all things considered, he’s doing pretty well. 

“No.” Travis replies, eyes on the road and knuckles white on the steering wheel. 

“Don’t say no, step on the gas pedal. Not floor it, step on it gently.” Larry instructs, and Travis grunts, doing as he says. The Jeep races forward a moment, then maintains speed, and Larry nods, impressed. 

“Great job. Alright, your turn is right here. Directional.” 

___________________________

“You could have tried not yelling at me.” 

“I didn’t yell at you, not even once!” 

“You absolutely did!” Travis points his spoon at Larry in a threatening manner, and Larry holds up his hands in surrender. 

“I absolutely did, apparently.” 

The pink haired boy huffs, going back to his yogurt (He went with pineapple and strawberry, Larry notes, and gummy bears and nerds for toppings. Was he really so pastel about everything?) and he shrugs, picking at his own. It’s chocolate and vanilla, with candy rocks and m&m’s. Pretty normal. And yet, it’s so different. 

And that’s good. 

“Hey… Can I ask a personal question?” Travis asks softly, and Larry looks up, cocking a brow. 

“Yeah? I mean… We’re pretty personal.” 

“It’s about your parents.” 

“Oh.” Larry clears his throat. “Okay. But only if I get to ask about yours.” 

Travis hesitates, but nods.   
“What happened to your dad?” It’s blunt, straight to the point, and Larry has to admire that. 

“He left us. Just, up and left, out of the blue. He told mom and me he loved us, then… Poof. Gone.” Larry chews at his lip.  
“I… Try not to get too close to people. Sal, Ash, Todd… You… It’s just… I don’t want to work up my heart for another fake ‘I love you’, you know? I don’t think I could take that again.” 

Travis nods slowly, swallowing hard as he grabs Larry’s hand, kissing his knuckles lightly.   
“I’m here.” It’s a soft promise, and Larry smiles, nodding lightly. 

“... Okay, what about your mom?” Larry asks, and Travis falters. 

“She died, when I was thirteen. My dad lost it after that. He was always kind of… You know. Awful. But after mom died, that’s when it got really bad. He made me dye my hair, he got rid of all the photos of her, he just… treated her like she didn’t even exist. Sometimes, I think he killed her.” Travis shrugs feebly, and Larry just stares.   
Well. That was a lot to take in. 

“You think he killed her?” 

“I don’t have any proof. He just… Handled it way too well.” Travis mumbles, picking up a gummy bear and squishing it a little. 

Larry is quiet, watching him curiously as he mulls it all over in his head, and stashes it away for later. Just in case. He was good at investigations, maybe there was something to the suspicions. 

When they’ve finished their yogurt, Larry throws their garbage away and turns back to the table, watching as Travis stared out the window at the mall’s foot traffic, and Larry wonders for a moment if he’d seen something that’d upset him. The look on his face was blank, eyes glazed and wandering across the crowds, but when Larry places a hand on his shoulder, he jumps, looking up and smiling. 

“You okay?” Larry mumbles softly, and Travis nods. 

“There’s just a lot of people. I’ll be fine.” He responds, standing up and taking the other boy’s hand. He still seems distant, but Larry gets it. He’s stressed out, anxious about being so out in the open when this was so new. The metalhead presses a small kiss to Trav’s temple, and some of the tension eases in the other. He would be fine, Larry knew. 

He tugs at him gently.  
“C’mon, I wanna take you to that shop. It’ll be less crowded than out here.” 

___________

The record shop is deserted, really, and Travis is thrilled. It’s all secondhand music, cassettes, 8Tracks, vinyl records, cds, everything. Larry takes him straight back to the metal section, but Travis strays as his boyfriend flicks through some records. He heads to the alternative music, looking though some of them before realizing that he knew jack shit about music. 

He’s reading the back of a cd when he feels a pair of arms circle around his waist, a chin propping on his shoulder. Trav glances over, kissing Larry’s cheek softly. 

“Find anything?” Lar asks, and Travis shrugs. 

“No, I… Haven’t heard any of these bands. I don’t really listen to anything like this. Mostly church music. And some really… I dunno, unheard of stuff.” He sets the CD down, picking up one that he recognized. 

“Cavetown. I know this.” He hums, and Larry wrinkles his nose.   
“Hey, don’t be a bitch, this is better than the noise you listen to.” 

“It isn’t noise!” Larry scoffs, pinching Travis’s hip, listening to the boy giggle softly as he wriggles beneath him. 

“Shut up. If you listen to a whole Cavetown album, I’ll listen to Sanity’s Fall without complaining.” Travis smirks. 

“That’s a deal, Phelps.” Larry replies, taking the CD from Travis to read the tracklist, smiling a little. 

Travis smiles, turning to watch him, and he can’t help but think just how lucky he was. 

This was real, and this was good.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end, y’all. Hold onto your asses.   
> This is a shorter chapter, but the next chapters will be longer!! 
> 
> There is smut in this chapter!!! There is also depictions of abuse, as well as uses of slurs. Proceed with caution!

Going to concerts with Larry and Sal was always pretty interesting. For one thing, it was just… crazy, watching Larry in his natural habitat. Sweat rolling off of him as he sang and headbanged along to the too loud music, practiced and beautiful.   
Travis was awkward, standing with him in the crowd, eyes on the stage forward of them.   
It was just a local band, he’s pretty sure they’d gone to high school with some of the guys on the stage, and the music was actually decent. Larry and Sal were singing along, both of them jumping around, and Travis couldn’t help it snap a few photos. Aside from being his boyfriend, Larry was Trav’s best friend. And Sal was his friend too. This was a life he never thought he’d get, and it was actually fucking amazing. 

Larry glances his way as he takes photos, and he smirks, grabbing him by the wrist and hauling him through the crowd. For a moment, he panics, but he knows Larry wouldn’t ever hurt him. They press through the mass of people, Travis stumbling a little to keep up with his boyfriend. 

The whole place is packed, wall to wall, the smell of beer thick in the air. Smoke hung over the crowd, and sweat clung to every person there. The bass in the speakers, the shred of the guitar, it was doing something to Trav’s head. 

Larry pulls him until they reach the hall where the bathrooms are in this tiny little venue, and that’s where he shoved him against the wall, lips searing against his in a hot kiss. It’s a little surprising, but not really. Larry is so wound up, and so is Travis.   
The pink haired boy whimpers against him, his arms falling across Lar’s shoulders, letting the larger boy kiss him hard. Their skin sticks together, both of them sweaty and gross from the venue, but Travis couldn’t give less of a fuck. He can feel the other’s tongue swipe over his lower lip, and Travis goes pliant, allowing him in. Their tongues clash for a moment, moving against each other, fighting for dominance. Larry’s tongue rubs against Trav’s, and he can feel the piercing adding to the sensation. He groans, unable to help it as his thoughts grow a little more lewd than just kissing.   
And god bless Larry Johnson, he is all too happy to wedge his leg between Travis’ thighs, letting him grind down against him. Travis lets out a soft little sound, and Larry pulls away to kiss at the column of his throat instead, nipping and leaving little marks in his wake. The pink haired boy whimpers out his approval, and he can feel Larry smirking against his flesh as he pauses to suck a deep bruise into his flesh. Travis shifts his hips, grinding down on his boyfriend’s thigh hard, his breath shaky as he works himself over. Larry chuckles lightly, and Travis lets out a little moan of need. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Larry growls in his ear as one of his hands slips beneath the shirt that Travis wore (It was definitely one of Larry’s), sliding all the way up until his thumb flicked over a pebbled nipple. The smaller boy let out a breathy whine, and Larry purrs, kissing his collarbone as his fingers pinched and rolled his nipple.   
Trav’s hips don’t cease, only working himself up more, but much to his chagrin, Larry steps back, releasing him entirely. Travis cries out in agitation, pouting at his boyfriend, who merely shrugs. 

“C’mon. Their set isn’t over yet, and Sal is still here. I don’t want you to cream your pants just yet.” Lar holds out a hand to Travis, who takes it, still pouting. 

“You’re an ass.” 

“I know.”

__--___

The rest of the show is actually amazing, but it’s spent with Larry paying as little attention to Travis as possible. He goes right back to jamming along with Sal at his side, and Travis wants to scream. He won’t, though.

He knows that they’re going back to his place after this - his dad was on a trip and wouldn’t be home till tomorrow night. Until then, he and Larry were welcome to the whole house. And they used it. Absolutely.   
The band finishes their set, and honestly, Travis can’t wait to go back home - after they drop Sal off, though. And thank goodness the other two don’t drag their feet getting out of the bar and to the car. Travis climbs into the driver’s seat of Larry’s jeep, watching them get themselves situated. They’re still singing and bopping along to whatever music is in their heads, and Trav just rolls his eyes, smirking a little as he pulls out of the spot and onto the road. 

“That was a good show.” Larry hums, and Sal nods in agreement. 

“Better than the last one, I think. Their new song was killer!” The blue haired boy air guitars as he mimics the solo from said song, not even noticing that Larry had slipped his hand onto Travis’ thigh. Larry squeezes lightly, his thumb trailing along the inseam of the blond’s pants. Trav glances at him, narrowing his eyes briefly, but he tries to keep his focus on the road. After all, he doesn’t exactly have a license. 

Larry continues rubbing, his hand trailing further over until it was right over Travis’s clothed cock, just ghosting touches as he carries on a normal conversation with Sal. 

Bastard. 

Travis simply grits his teeth, trying to ignore the way his hand was lingering, pressing a bit too hard. 

Larry was a little shit. Most things he did, he was a perfect gentleman, kind, considerate, comforting - even if he was seen as ‘a greasy rat boy’, as Ashley liked to say. But Larry loved to tease Travis. Whether it was putting things on the top shelf, taking his phone and taking a hundred pictures, or calling him names. It was so endearing.   
But when Larry was in the mood, it was un-fucking-bearable. Constantly grabbing his ass, touching his cock, kissing his neck. And the thing was, Travis could bitch about it all he wanted to, but he absolutely loved it. The attention, the feelings it gave him, he loved it. 

So when he was chubbing up in his jeans as they pulled up outside of Addison, he couldn’t wait to get Lar alone. 

Sal hops out of the Jeep, and much to Trav’s chagrin, Larry stops him, starting another conversation. 

“We’re gonna stop by the coffee shop in the morning, get you less bored.” Larry hums. Sal nods, but he’s hesitant. 

“As long as you guys don’t start another fight, like last time.” He replies, and Lar snorts. 

“Come on, Travis started that. He absolutely did, right?” Larry looks at Travis, who grits his teeth. 

“....Yeah.” He growls out, and Larry gives the most shit eating grin he’s ever seen before looking back at Sal. 

“He’s so damned whipped.” 

Travis gasps, elbowing Larry sharply.   
“Hey! Fuck off!” 

Larry smirks, wiggling his brows at Sal.   
“Oooh, I’m in trouble now.”   
Sal snorts, rolling his eyes at the pair of them, backing away from the truck. 

“Go home. Be careful.” The blue haired boy rolls his eyes as he waved, heading up the sidewalk. 

Larry looks back over at Travis, smirking. 

“Take me home and fuck me till I can’t see straight?” 

Those words make Travis huff, and put the Jeep in drive.   
“You’re gonna fuck me till I can’t walk.” The pink haired boy nods firmly, and Larry laughs, nodding right back. 

“Can do, Carebear.” 

——————-

Travis falls forward onto Larry’s bare chest, damn near wheezing as he struggles to catch his breath. There’s cum on his and Lar’s stomachs, now smeared together as he tries to breathe, but he doesn’t care. He just came riding his boyfriend’s cock in his own bed. It was so dirty, and yet, so freeing. As if there was nothing in the world that could faze either of them. And to be honest, there wasn’t. Nothing here, anyway.   
In the back of his head, Travis knew his father would be back tomorrow night. But here, laying with Larry, whose chest was heaving just as hard? This had to be heaven. 

The darker haired boy leans over, grabbing a towel from beside the bed and nudging Travis to sit up so that he could mop up their mess. Once he was finished, he gently pulled his boyfriend back into his arms, snuggling up against him warmly. Travis keeps his head propped comfortably on his shoulder, smiling softly up at him. 

“Careful. Your face might stick like that.” Larry teases, only to get a slight pinch to his hip. He whines, but Travis just rolls his eyes. 

“Shut up. I’m happy.” And it’s true. He’s got no bruises, no fears, nothing. He’s turning out to be quite normal. 

“Good. I like when you’re happy.” Larry whispers, his fingers brushing over a scar under Trav’s eye.   
“I’m gonna make you happy all the time. You and me, okay?” It’s so fucking soft, the way he insists. His eyes are dark, his face desperate, sincere. Travis swallows hard, just gripping his boyfriend tighter. 

Travis frowns a little.   
“How can you do that? You can’t kill my dad.” 

Larry shakes his head.  
“We’re gonna get the hell out of this town. We’ll move to LA. Or Canada.” He hums, kissing his forehead. 

 

“What are we gonna do there, Lar?” Travis smiles softly, leaning up to kiss him gently. The other boy shrugs a little. 

“Well, you’ll probably take some college classes. Get a job working retail or some shit. I’ll teach music and art to kids in need. We’ll live in a loft. Maybe we’ll get a dog.” 

It’s the goddamn American dream. Travis can feel tears pricking in his eyes at the mere thought of having a domestic life with Lar, making dinner, slow dancing in the kitchen, falling asleep on the couch watching some bad movie. Their dog being like their baby, allowed to do anything it wanted to. 

“We could even adopt a kid someday.” Larry murmurs, kissing Travis’s forehead sweetly. And that makes his heart flip. They’re not ready, not at all. They hardly have a hold on each other, but someday? They could be damn good parents. 

“You wanna get married someday, Lar?” Travis asks, feeling the other shrug beneath him. 

“Yeah, why not? We’d still be cool all married, right? As long as it doesn’t kill my vibe entirely.” He snorts, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles gently. That would be nice, marrying Larry, having their whole life to be together. This nightmare with his dad would be far behind them, and Travis would be happy. 

He wanted it. He wanted it so badly that tears began to roll down his cheeks. He can’t help it, really, but Larry’s eyes go wide as he cups Trav’s cheeks.   
“Was that wrong? Fuck, we don’t have to get married, I just thought that was something you’d want-”

“Shut up, Larry, of course I want it. I want to go with you. I’d go with you anywhere.” Travis whispers. 

Larry eases, smiling softly.   
“I’d go anywhere to be where you are. I’d come find you, anywhere.” He means it.  
“Any time. Any time you want me. Or need me. Or if you’re bored.” 

Travis laughs, rolling his eyes a little.   
“I know. And I’d wait for you to come to me like I’m a damsel.” 

“You’re my damsel, though. You’re distressing. But I like a good challenge.” 

“I know you do. You wouldn’t have stuck around if you didn’t.” Travis tucks his face into the curve of Larry’s neck, letting himself ease into rest. 

“I love you.”

___________________

It all came crashing down the next morning.

Mr. Phelps wasn’t expected home until late tonight, that’s what he’d said. That’s what he’d said. 

Being that that was the promise, Travis and Larry weren’t exactly sneaking around the house. They’d been in the kitchen, making breakfast, like normal people. Travis was fully clothed, wearing a pair of flannel sweatpants and a tee shirt, while Larry had foregone a shirt and just stuck with the pajama bottoms.   
It was pretty convenient for Travis, who was currently on his knees, lips stretched around Larry’s cock. 

Larry’s head was tossed back, his hair falling down his back beautifully, the muscles in his stomach rippling as he grew closer and closer to the edge.   
Travis bobbed his head, humming along the thick shaft with practiced ease - giving head was one of his favorite things to do - and watching his boyfriend unravel above him. 

Neither of them heard the front door open and close, but they sure did hear the sound of repulsion that the newcomer made at the sight of the two of them. Travis isn’t sure he’s ever moved so quickly in his life, but it’s not fast enough.   
Larry yanks the pants back up to conserve some of his dignity, but Travis simply flips around, pressing himself back against the cabinets as his blood turned to ice and his stomach turned inside out. 

There stands his father in a pressed collared shirt and khakis, looking quite normal, except for the violent shade of red his face had turned. His eyes were dark with rage, his lip curled to expose his gritted teeth. His fists were balled at his sides, and Travis lifts an arm instinctively, using it to shield his face. 

“You disgusting abominations. In my house, nontheless. I knew you brought demons into my home, Lawrence Johnson. You’ve turned my son into an object of shame.” He steps forward, but Larry steps in front of Travis, even though he’s clearly terrified. 

Mr. Phelps hesitates.   
“I will give you ten seconds to leave, or I will not hesitate to purge the demons from you as well.” 

Oh god. Travis thinks he might be sick.   
“Larry, go. Just go, please, go! I’ll be fine-” He tries to shove his legs, but the other won’t move at all. 

“He’s not a freak, you’re a fucking monster.” Larry spits, and Phelps scoffs. 

“Fine. You’ve chosen the hard way.” He’s fast, a hand shooting out and grabbing a fistful of Larry’s hair, clutching and twisting it, effectively managing to drag him towards the front door. Larry let out a cry of pain, and Travis jumped up in an instant, grabbing at his father’s wrist.   
With his free hand, his father twisted, slapping Trav so viciously that he stumbled back, stunned. 

“Let me go, you fucking coward! Don’t you fucking touch him, don’t hurt him!” Larry shouted, but it’s no use. He can’t get a grip on Phelp’s arm, and he can’t pull free. He’s dragged to the foyer, thrown out onto his ass on the porch, his keys and wallet following close behind. Travis thanks God that he’d made Larry leave them on the front porch. 

Larry tries to get back up, tries to scream, to lunge for Travis, but it’s no good. The door is slammed in his face, deadbolted, and Phelps slowly turns, eyes on his son. 

“This is what you do when I leave you alone? You turn into a sinful whore. You grab for anything you can find. You’re disgusting. You’re pathetic.” He steps toward Travis, who presses himself back against the wall as his father begins to remove his belt. 

“N-No, h-he-” He tries. 

“He cares about you? It’s filth. Poison. You are an abomination. You are not my son, you are a demon that has taken control of him, and you will be purged.” The word is punctuated by a swing of the belt, the leather flashing painfully across his chest. Travis cries out, and distantly, he can hear pounding on the front door, shouting from behind it. Larry…  
Another whip from the belt has him sobbing out. 

“Father!” Travis tries to block himself from being hit, but the belt was faster, biting into the newly healed skin of his face. He’s shocked.   
His father has never hit him in the face with the belt before.   
He strikes at him again and again, the welts rising on his flesh as he struggles to get away. 

But soon, the belt is gone, and there’s a hand on his throat, shoving him so hard against the wall that he cries out in pain, wheezing for breath. Mr Phelps doesn’t relent, just increasing pressure. 

“You’re going to be punished. But first, you’re going to tell that boy you never want to see him again.” 

No, no, fuck! 

“P-please…” Travis gasps, grabbing his wrist harshly, but he only gets a moments peace before he’s being thrown to the floor, his sides feeling the brunt of it when his father kicks him. 

He doesn’t relent, and Travis can’t breathe. 

“You’ll tell him you were lying. That you aren’t a faggot. If you want him to stay alive, you’ll do it. I won’t hesitate to track him down and stage a little accident.” 

Travis lets out a sob of anguish, collapsing onto the floor. He knew his father meant it. He’d hurt Larry, he’d kill him. He couldn’t do that, please… 

“O-Okay… I’ll do it! I’ll do what you want, please-“ He coughs, tasting blood in his mouth, and his father finally backs off. Just for a moment, though, as he suddenly has a fistful of Travis’s hair, and he’s dragging him upright until he was on his knees.   
He looks down at him, eyes frigid and without a single ounce of love. The preacher growls. 

“Repent.” 

_______________________


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hey. I'm not dead.   
> I'm so sorry this update took as long as it did, my life has been so crazy recently, but I hope this makes up for the wait!! This chapter is a train wreck. I hope y'all enjoy it!

It’s been three days of hell. Three days since Mr. Phelps had caught Travis and Larry together, since the beatings had started again, since Travis had spoken to his boyfriend. 

He wakes with a start, expecting his father to be there to shout at him again, but to his surprise, he’s alone, and the house around him is silent.   
He tries to stretch out, but his breath catches as pain bolts across his body violently, knocking the air from his lungs.  
Fucking hell. He wheezes a little, trying to sit up as he catches his breath. He manages it, heading into the bathroom to shower off some of the stiffness in his bones. 

His eyes fall on his battered form in the mirror, and he swallows hard, taking a shaky breath. He’s a mess, horrible black and blue bruises from the belt across his face - a welt is raised up across his cheekbones, his right eye is red ringed and ugly. He runs a hand under his nose where dried blood is crusted, sighing unhappily as he glares at his reflection. 

Today is the day.   
It’s not going to be a good day, and it’s not going to ever feel better. The sad part is, Travis has already accepted that.

What he had with Larry was different. He had happiness, the promise of a future - even if it was made in a post orgasmic haze with soft voices and gentle kisses, it was still a promise - it was everything. Travis had staked his hope to it, and now… With what his father had done, it was gone.   
Everything that had been keeping his head above the water, it was all empty shells of what could have been, and that thought alone is enough to bring tears to Travis’ eyes. That’s funny, he didn’t think he had any tears left. 

His father was a cruel man. Crueler still that he was forcing his son to deliver the crushing blow to Larry, to lie to him and break off everything. 

He should run. He should pack up his life and run away with Larry, but he knows it’s no use. Larry has a family, a life, everything in Nockfell. And Travis wasn’t about to take all of that away from him. 

 

Hell. Larry was probably lying about wanting him anyway. Travis was a freak. A mean, cruel, ugly thing with no reason to be loved, no reason to be cared for. Travis was garbage. Why would Larry stoop that low? He wouldn’t. Unless it was for some cruel joke. 

But Travis can’t help but shriek at himself internally, because he knows Larry, and he knows that isn’t true. He’s seen the most soft, wonderful, intimate parts of Lar, with and without sex. And the sex was great, for sure, but Larry was better. He was so goddamn perfect, even with the messy mane, the smoke addled lungs, the beaky nose, the warm, sweet eyes, the calloused hands that could cup his face just perfectly when he kissed Travis- 

No. No, he couldn’t get wrapped up in him, not when he had to hurt him.

This was the lesser of two evils. Truly, it was, after Mr. Phelps threatened to kill Larry. Breaking his heart was small change in comparison to taking his life.

And it came down to that, didn’t it? 

Travis was furious at his father. Why couldn’t he just let Travis be happy?! 

The rage boils inside of him so much that he lets out a shout, cocking back his arm and throwing his fist into the mirror, crying out when the glass cracks under his knuckles. He pulls back, watching blood well in the gashes and roll down his hand. 

He can’t help it. As much as he hates it, a sob leaves him, his chest tightening as he clutches his hand. It doesn’t hurt much- he’s already in pain, though, so maybe it does, but he doesn’t care. 

But he’s imperfect. He’s covered in welts, bruises, cuts, and every other ugly mark. Why would anyone want him, anyway?  
Especially Larry. 

Travis can’t stop crying, the tears streaming down his face. God, he’s pathetic. Fucking… pathetic. He needs to shower before he goes to see Larry. 

———-

When Larry had been thrown out of the house, he’d done his best to get in. But the fucking bastard had locked him out, and he wasn’t able to find any way back in. It was gut wrenching, the desperation of it damn near knocked him on his ass. 

Travis was in there. And he was hurt. God, how could Larry have let this happen? He had told Travis he would protect him, and then… Fucking hell. 

Larry wasn’t feeling self pity. He was infuriated. He was in a rage over the fact that Phelps would rather have a dead son than a gay one. And yeah, walking in on your kid sucking cock wasn’t the best way to come out, but Larry could hear Travis begging for mercy as he tried to get the front door back open. It was locked tight, and his nails scraped uselessly over the wood of the doorjamb. 

Larry didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want Travis to be alone in this fight. It was killing Larry, his heart shattering for the boy he was in love with. He had promised him a future, a life together on the coast.  
Larry wanted to marry Travis.   
He didn’t want to leave him in that house. But he had. He’d left in search of help. He’d called Sal, begging for something, anything that could help Travis. Sal had meagerly suggested the police, though they’d never done anything in Nockfell before. But anyone would have figured that the cops might have been able to do something. Despite Travis having told him that the cops wouldn’t be any help, Larry went to the station. 

Larry was sure he was a sight.   
His hair wasn’t brushed, and he was wearing a leather jacket over a bare chest and pajama pants. Wide eyed, unshaven, Larry stormed into the station, stepping up to the counter. He ignores the woman in the corner in the tiny red dress, the man who was twitching violently, muttering to himself, and places his palms on the wood. 

The officer behind the counter was a portly woman, her hair in tight orange curls. Her glasses were low on her nose, and she didn’t look up from her computer, snapping her gum. It wasn’t until Larry growled out a strained “excuse me” that she finally pried her eyes up. 

“Yes?” The woman drawled, taking in Larry’s disheveled appearance. 

“I need help. My friend - my boyfriend- he… his father is attacking him. Right now, as we speak. He’s hurting him and I need someone to get to them and get him away.” He says, surprised at the way his voice didn’t waver at all, but the way her lip curls doesn’t give him any hope at all. 

“Is your boyfriend a minor?” She asks, eyes now more venomous and judgemental. 

“What? No! He’s an adult, we were at his house and his dad got home and started attacking him!” 

“Sir, please do not raise your voice at me. Now, what’s his name and address?” 

Larry is dumbfounded. What the fuck was this bullshit? 

“You wanna pull his record?” He snarls, and the officer glowers at him. 

“I’m also going to need to pull yours, sir.” 

Bullshit. Larry’s record wasn’t clean. He’d been arrested several times, done stints in juvie, and the officer definitely wouldn’t help if she saw that. 

“Travis Phelps.” He says harshly, his chest tightening as he says it, desperation growing. He could be dead by now. He could be dead and no one would fucking know it. 

“Phelps?” The Officer quirks a brow.   
“The preacher’s son?” 

“Yeah, that bastard has been beating Travis for years and you people haven’t ever done anything about it. Travis could be dead and you idiots wouldn’t fucking care, would you?” Uh oh, pull back, Lar. Too intense. 

The officer gasps in offense, and from the back room, Larry sees two more cops emerge, obviously having heard him snap. 

“Mr. Phelps is a fine man, and you cannot come in here, spreading lies just because you don’t like what he says.” The woman says firmly, and Larry could actually combust. 

“You think this is about me being gay?! Are you kidding me?! Preacher Phelps is beating his son to death as we speak! He is trying to kill him!” Larry is shouting now, and suddenly, those two officers have hands on him, pulling him away from the counter. 

“What are you fucking doing?! Let me go, you have to help! Travis needs help, please!” He pleads, but he’s being dragged away, all the way to the door, where he’s thrown out onto the street. 

One of the cops, a thick, burly man, watches at Larry falls onto his ass, and then kneels beside him. 

“You’re going to drop the accusations on the Preacher. You’re going to forget about the kid, and you’re going to leave it alone. Or I’ll help you forget it.” He growls, and Larry can’t fucking believe that this is happening. 

They’re really about to let Travis be destroyed. 

 

Those three days drag on, and Larry is fucking losing his mind. He hasn’t heard anything from Travis, not even seen Phelps leave his house at all. He’s beside himself, barely able to get through a solid day’s work at the garage. They know he’s distracted, they know what’s going on.   
And what’s fucking insane is that no one will help. It’s like… Something is scaring them away from it.

Larry has a theory that there’s something happening in Nockfell, that it’s some plot that the cops and the church are all in on, and they’re not letting anything happen to one another. That would explain why the cops wouldn’t help Larry in an investigation against Phelps.   
There’s something bigger, but that’s not the priority. 

It’s Sunday, Larry’s day off, and he’s at home, anxiously clutching his phone as he sits at the dining room table. Lisa isn’t here, she’s up on the fourth floor, cleaning the floors. It would take her a while, and she wasn’t too keen on leaving Larry alone, not when Sal was working too. Larry promised he’d be okay. Maybe today would be the day that Travis finally got back in contact with him.   
He hoped, at least. 

Larry missed him. He missed the way that Travis would curl up against him and tuck his nose against his neck. He was always so cold, and Lar was all too happy to hand over his hoodies. Travis was good.   
He might have tried too hard to be an asshole, coming off as more of a Pomeranian than a pitbull. He was a dick. 

But he was good. He was just frightened. He was scared of everyone and everything, but Larry got to see the raw sweetness that way covered by the scar tissue of his entire childhood. 

A bolt of pain hits Lar’s heart again, and he curses as tears well in his eyes.   
Travis must be so scared, he must feel so alone. Fuck, why didn’t Larry do more? Why didn’t he go back to the house to break him out of there?

He scrubs a hand angrily over his eyes and snatches his coffee cup off the table, slamming the rest in one gulp. It burns as it goes down, but he doesn’t care. Any distraction is good. 

_______________________

The walk to Addison felt longer this time. Maybe it was his fucked up leg, the one his father had kicked out from under him. It was mottled with ugly bruises and it hurt to walk on it, but Trav had to get to Larry. He just wanted to be held and coddled and loved. Any he knew that he would get it from him, he wanted it so goddamn bad.   
But if he got it and then broke up with him… That would make him a shitty person. Maybe it would convince Lar to stay the fuck away.   
God, Travis was going to hurt him so badly, and that cracked his heart so hard. 

It was fucking shit.   
He’d rather die than hurt Lar, but… He had to do this. 

“Fuck, can you fucking stop?” He hisses at himself as he pauses to lean against the wall of a brick building, his chest heaving with the effort of dragging his sorry ass down main street. He wants to sink to the ground, but he keeps himself upright. 

He’d cleaned himself up before he’d left this morning, and he was wearing a purple sweater and shorts - something he’s pretty sure he’d worn a lot in high school. His hair had faded quite a lot, the pink almost gone entirely, his dark roots showing and making him look even grubbier than usual.   
He’s on display for everyone to see, all the bruises and gashes, bandages and pure spite holding him together at this point. 

He just wants to get where he’s going. 

“Travis? Oh my god, Travis!” 

It’s a woman’s voice that jars him, but he still jumps, ready to put up a defense as the owner approaches. 

“...Ashley?” 

She’s wearing a purple dress today, her hair pinned back out of her face, which bore a surprisingly sweet and gentle expression, concern wreathed in her eyes. That’s what shocked Travis more than anything. She actually gave a shit, and that wrecked him. He swallowed hard, pushing himself further upright against the wall. 

“Travis, what the fuck? Are you okay? Larry has been so worried about you, christ, you’re a mess…” She reaches out to touch his face, and he recoils hard, pulling back. 

“Don’t you hate me? What the fuck do you care?” He snaps, and immediately regret it as her softness melts, giving way to harshness. 

“Hey, you prick, I’m just trying to look out for you. You’re part of my family now.”

Oh, god. He felt sick at that. She was going to kill him. 

“Come on. Larry had been losing his shit for days, you’ve got to go and see him. Todd and Neil can drive you, they’re around here somewhere…” Ash grabs his hand and pulls him off the wall, glancing back and watching as he limps and stumbles after her. 

“Uh… Okay.” He doesn’t want to walk all the way there, but he also doesn’t want to have these conversations with these people who he absolutely cared about. He didn’t take into account losing more than just Lar in this. He’d be giving up Ash, and Sal, and Neil and Todd… It was gut wrenching for him. He’d been alone and friendless for so goddamn long, and he was about to go straight back there. Back to just him and his father, to him struggling to survive. Fuck. 

He swallows hard, adjusting his hand in Ash’s so that he’s more comfortable and it’s more natural, their fingers laced now. He doesn’t miss that wistful smile that passes her lips. He knows that he’s not her favorite, but he can’t help but feel like she might be a little more protective of him now that she was before.   
After all, Larry had told him the story about her dislocating that prick Michael’s shoulder in high school. And at that party, she’d helped to beat the shit out of the guy who had assaulted Trav.   
That had to count for something. She was his friend. 

A friend that he was going to lose. 

Trav feels tears burning in his eyes again, but he rubs at them with his sleeve, sniffling. Thankfully, Ash doesn’t ask as she guides him towards the antique shop, where Todd and Neil were stepping out onto the street, looking a bit confused before laying eyes on Travis. 

“Travis!” Todd greets him, and it’s a little surprising, but not really. Travis is grateful for the enthusiasm.   
Neil frowns, cocking his head as he looks Travis over, but god bless Ashley, because she jumped in before any stupid questions could be asked. 

“He needs a ride to Addison Apartments, can you guys drive us?” She asks quickly, not letting go of his hand. Todd nods immediately. 

“Of course, man, absolutely. C’mon.” He motions to the car, and Trav and Ash follow, a little slower. 

Travis climbs in the back seat with the girl as the other two take the front seats and Neil starts the engine. It falls into a tense, awkward silence, and Travis can feel all of the attention on him. He wants to say something, he wants to assure them that he cares about them, despite what he was about to do.   
But he can’t think of anything to say, looking out the window as they start out onto the road. 

Ashley clears her throat and reaches over, pulling Travis closer to her. And that gentle motion, he thinks, as his head lands on her shoulder, is what breaks him. He can’t help the tears that spill over as he moves closer to her, and she strokes his hair sweetly, just letting him cry. 

“He told us what happened. God, Travis, you’re so strong to come out of that still standing. You’re tougher than any of us.” She whispers, and Trav sobs, covering his mouth to muffle the sounds as his heart splits down the middle once again. Ash coos at him softly, and it’s so strange that she’s being so good to him. He knew that she wasn’t his favorite, but he wasn’t about to point that out and have her push him away. 

“It’s okay. Everything is gonna be okay.” She says gently, and Todd looks back over his shoulder at them, and then glances at his boyfriend, who gives a firm nod and a light smile. 

“Travis? Hey, we have an extra room at the house. We want you to come move in with us. Do you think you’d like that?” 

Oh god. He’s going to be sick.   
He lets out another harsh, chest crumpling sob, and Ash holds him tighter, hushing him. 

“You don’t have to answer right now. Really, take your time and think about it, but… It’s always open to you, bud.” Todd reaches back, patting the blond’s shoulder sweetly. Travis manages a feeble nod as he pulls away, needing to have a little bit of distance from them. He knows it’s going to suck so badly. He knows. 

It’s only a few moments before they’ve pulled up outside of the apartments, and Travis takes a shaky breath, starting to get out. 

“Hey, Trav?” It’s Neil who calls out to him now, and the boy freezes, looking back at him.   
“Larry loves you. It’s gonna be okay. Him, and all of us are here for you. Really, whenever you need us.” Ash and Todd nod affirmatively, and Travis wants to fucking scream. Instead, he gives a tight smile. 

“Thanks.” He whispers, climbing out of the car and closing the door behind him. He heads for the entrance of the apartment building, not willing to stand around and look at the faces of his friends when he knows that he’s about to break everything. 

He heads inside of the grimy apartment building, pulling out the key card to the basement that he kept in his wallet. Fuck, he felt like he was made of stone, heavy and unforgiving. He’s so tired, and he’s not really stopped crying yet. He wishes he could try to stop, but there’s nothing he can do. 

The elevator is just another place to stand alone with his thoughts, heart aching, head pounding as he swipes the card and pushes the button, letting the car drop to the lower floor as he tries to figure out what he’s going to say to Larry.   
His best friend.   
The only person he’s ever trusted. The only person he’s ever loved. 

The doors slide open and he steps out, walking slowly, painfully towards the door. The last time he’d ever walk to this door.   
Fuck. Travis takes a second to wipe his eyes again, trying to look a little more presentable for Larry. He knows he’s a fucking mess, yellowing bruises on his face, his hand bandaged thickly from the mirror this morning, his knee swollen and ugly… 

He wasn’t pretty like he used to be. Larry wouldn’t want him anymore. 

Travis plants himself in front of the door, taking a deep, shaking breath, before he raises his fist and knocks, feeling awkward doing this. He just feels generally out of place here. He never used to knock - he’s got a key to this apartment on his ring, but using it now just feels wrong. He’s not going to be welcomed here anymore, not after what he’s going to say. 

He wishes Larry could understand. He wishes that he could just tell him what’s happening, but Travis is terrified of his father, and Larry has no goddamn self preservation, it would be useless to tell him the truth. 

Instead, he’s going to break his heart so badly that they’d both be left in a state of disrepair and shattered agony. It wasn’t going to be okay.  
But Larry would be safe. He’d be far away from Mr. Phelps. And that was okay by Travis. He would live with the pain and distress of it, if it meant that Larry would be alive and away from every hint of danger. 

Travis tries to calm himself as the deadbolt slides open, and the doorknob rattles, but he can’t help it. 

The door opens, and there stands the love of his life, clad in tight jeans and a flannel shirt, his hair a ratty mess, eyes dark and ringed in shadow. He was a wreck, obviously exhausted, but the look on his face when he sees Travis standing there is pure relief and joy. It’s so beautiful, honestly, it only makes more tears fall down bruised cheeks. 

“Travis…” Larry says, his voice hushed, the name like a prayer on his lips. It makes Trav’s knees weak, and he takes a slow, shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lar, I…” He swallows hard, but Larry shakes his head, reaching out cautiously, pulling Trav into his arms, and god, does he need this. He needs to bury his face in his shoulder and be cradled, he needs to be kissed sweetly and- 

No.

“I need to talk to you.” He whispers.  
“It’s… It’s about us.” And with that, he’s pulling out of Larry’s arms, stepping back from him and trying to steel himself. Larry just stares at him, brows drawn together as he steps aside, inviting him inside. Travis lowers his head, running his hand through his hair anxiously as he steps in, into the living room that felt more like home to him than his own house ever had. 

“Travis, what… I’m… I’m so fucking sorry about-” Larry starts, but Trav holds up a hand, trying to keep himself from rushing to Larry and holding him. It’s so hard. 

“I… I’m breaking up with you. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do it to you, I can’t keep fucking doing this.” The words taste foul on his tongue, and he looks up at Lar, who just blinks, trying to process it.

“No.” 

“What?” That response startles him a little, and Travis swallows hard.   
“No, I… I’m breaking up with you, Lar, it’s happening. It’s not a debate.” 

“No. You’re only doing this because of your father, you’re scared of him-” Larry takes a step forward, and Trav takes a step back. 

“No, that’s not-”

“Yes, it fucking is, you can’t give him what he wants! I can protect you, I can take care of you, you just have to let me-” 

“No, Larry! No, I can’t, you don’t understand-” 

“Stop being fucking afraid of him! Move in with me, we can have the life that I promised you! Travis, fucking come on!”

For whatever reason, Travis feels a spark of anger in him. Maybe it’s the rage he’s been packing away, the pain he’s been smothering and stuffing into the edge of his mind. He sees red, and he can’t help the ugly, horrible feelings and words that bubble to the surface. 

“No, you fucking come on! You can’t just back the fuck off, can you? You don’t get that I’m done! I can’t make it any goddamn clearer!” Travis snarls at him.   
“We’re through!”

Larry is obviously surprised, and he takes a deep breath.   
“I can’t believe this, you’re just fucking doing what your asshole father wants! All you do it bend to him and let him run your life, when I actually fucking love you! You don’t fucking get it, you can’t fucking do this. You’re going to throw me away just to make him happy?!” He advances another step, and this time, Travis does too. 

 

“This is fucking ridiculous, Johnson. Whatever has snapped in you, I don’t fucking know, but this is so stupid! Why can’t you just fuck off and accept it, huh? No one asked you to get attached to me. You knew I was fucked up from day one! You knew I was a piece of shit, and you fell in love with me! I don’t even know what to fucking do with that shit!” Travis is shouting, his hands tangled in his faded pink locks as he struggles to catch his breath. Fuck. Fuck it all. 

“Excuse the fuck out of me for giving a shit about you, Phelps, I should never have agreed to this bullshit! You said you loved me! You said that you loved me too, and you were going to let me be there for you! If you don’t want to stay and let me take care of you, then leave! Get the fuck out of my house!” Larry is livid, but Travis can’t stop himself. He can’t keep himself from winding him up, and it occurs to him that this is the reason that he’s always getting his ass kicked. But he needs to do this. He needs the venom, so that Larry will leave him alone, and his father won’t go after him. He needs to protect him. 

“I fucking lied. Why the hell would I love you, huh?” Those words taste like poison on his tongue, and it turns his stomach.   
“You can’t stand it, can you? You can’t stand not getting what you want. It was a fucking game, Johnson, and you got hurt! that isn’t my goddamn problem! I’m done! There’s nothing between us, you’re a fucking psycho!” Travis snarls.   
“Nothing but a freak and a fag.” 

What he isn’t expecting is the fist that connects with his nose, the sharp crack and the gush of blood that spills down his face.   
Larry Johnson just punched Travis in the face and broke his fucking nose. The blond stumbles away, clutching his face in shock, trying to not lose his shit and start crying again. He doesn’t blame him, though. He knows that he deserved this.   
Larry’s eyes are shining with tears as he looks at the boy, taking a step forward with an outstretched hand. The remorse is so fucking evident right there, and he looks like he might be sick. 

“Fuck, Travis, I’m so fucking sorry-“ He tries, and Travis knows. He knows he is. 

“Jump up your own ass and die, Johnson.” He hisses, tears of anguish sliding down his cheeks now. 

He turns and flees from the apartment, sprinting as fast as he can, ignoring when Larry calls after him, begging him to stop, to just wait and listen. He flings himself into the elevator, smashing the button again and again, watching the doors slide shut - but not before he catches sight of Larry’s face, twisted in anguish, pleading, begging for him to stay. He can’t. He can’t do it. 

As soon as he’s on the lobby level, he’s running again, out of the building and onto the street, trying to get back to his house before Larry inevitably came after him again.   
Fuck, his leg hurt. And his hand, and oh god, his face hurt so badly. 

Travis wasn’t upset that Larry had hit him. It wasn’t okay, of course. It wouldn’t ever be okay that anyone had hit him, especially Larry, the love of his life, the only person he’d ever care about.   
Travis had said so many fucking awful things to him. He’d called him so many awful things. He was glad that Lar had broken his nose to stop him talking. 

Everything hurt. Everything burned, everything was broken, twisted, ugly, and stabbing into his heart and fucking ripping him to shreds. He can’t breathe, all he can taste is his own blood in his mouth. He’s going to throw up. 

Trav manages to vomit into the bushes that line the sidewalk, his entire body shaking as he wipes his mouth, and he lets his body go into auto pilot. He feels broken, sad, empty, and full of regret, all at once. He’s crushed, absolutely. 

He hates his father. 

But Larry is safe. Larry is safe, and that’s what matters most to Travis. 

His feet carry him to the hill that his house sits upon, and he looks up at the looming presence that is the church. It’s dark, solitary, and Travis just regards it numbly as he begins the hike. This is familiar for him, but this is different. It seems… It seems like this is the last time he’ll ever do this. It feels like a march to the gallows. 

Travis heads up to the house, head low as he climbs the porch steps, and lets himself into the house. He toes off his sneakers in the foyer, glancing in the mirror and giving a slow sigh. His nose is crooked, a split on the bridge, and fresh and dried blood mixing on his face. 

“Travis.” He jumps, looking over at his father, who stood in the hallway. 

“I… I broke up with him. He’s not going to come looking.” The boy mumbles, and Mr. Phelps nods, crossing the space between them. He motions to his son’s face. 

“Did he do this to you?” 

“He was angry.” Travis mutters. 

“... Good. Something like you deserves it.” The grimace that splits his face is horrible, and before Travis could ask what he was talking about, a massive hand was around his throat, squeezing hard, cutting off air flow. 

Travis wheezes as he slammed back against the wall, his eyes wide, terrified as he claws at his father’s hands. Fuck, was he about to kill him? Was he about to die?  
He’s petrified, but all he can think of is the heartbreak in Larry’s eyes. Would he come to Trav’s funeral? Would there be a funeral? Or would his father simply cover this up too? 

The edges of his vision are blurring over, and he gasps, trying one last time to free himself, staring up at his father as he struggles. 

Everything goes black.


	9. Chapter 9.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!! I'm not dead!! Thank you so much for sticking around this long, if you have. You guys are the best!!  
> Actual footage of me writing this chapter:  
> https://vm.tiktok.com/q68xvq/
> 
> This chapter is very rough, with Graphic depictions of violence. PLEASE use caution, lovelies.

The first thing that Travis feels when he wakes up is the suffocating cold and dark that surrounds him. It takes him a moment to remember, or even recognize his surroundings, but when he does, he finds himself in the basement of his father’s church.

He’s been down here before, of course. They stored everything down here, everything from vacation bible school decorations to Christmas supplies, shoved away into a storage room. 

What he hadn’t seen in previous trips down here were the chains that currently held his wrists in a bruising grip, hanging him from the ceiling. His toes of his sneakers were touching the ground, but he could feel the burn in his shoulders, his hands, everywhere. 

The chains that keep him locked to the wall are freezing, pulling uncomfortably at his flesh as Travis tries to wrench himself free. His heart is thundering in his chest, but it picks up again as the door to the basement opens, and the slow, calculated footsteps of his father begin their descent. 

Travis steels himself, swallowing hard and taking a few deep breaths. This was bound to get ugly. 

“Ah. The monster that’s possessed my son. My one and only child. First, you take my wife, now you’ve come for my boy.” Mr. Phelps speaks slowly, his voice low, cutting.   
“Repent, Travis.” 

Those words make his stomach turn. 

“What did you do to my mother?” He snarls, and his father cocks a brow as Travis manages to look up at him.   
He’s dressed in his clergyman’s suit, all pristine, pressed, and to the tee. He holds his bible in his hand, of course, but in the other, he holds a glass of cloudy liquid. 

“My wife was possessed by a demon that wanted to take her from me. It wanted to take her and my son and leave here. It wanted a divorce, and as you know, I’m sure, I couldn’t let that happen. I tried to have her repent, to give up the demon, but I was forced to burn it from her. Mary was a good woman. But I burned that demon from her body, and I will do the same if you don’t leave my son. I find a bit of bleach mixed with water tends to chase off demons fairly well.” He takes a step forward, and Travis flinches away. 

“I don’t have a demon! I’m Travis! I’m your son!” His heart cracks down the middle, rage, fear, and sadness all boiling together.   
“You… You murdered my mother!”

“No. You are a disgusting creature. My son is not a faggot. My son would never openly disobey me like this, he’d never do the things that I’ve seen you do with his body. My son respects me. He fears me. Now. Repent, or burn.” Mr. Phelps sets his bible on a nearby shelf. 

“Dad, please, I’m Travis! You don’t have to burn me, please!” He’s sobbing now, tears streaming down his face as he writhes in terror, trying to escape as his father nears. 

“Repent, or burn.” 

“I’m not a demon!” He cries out, but it doesn’t deter the man. 

“Burn, then.” And in that instant, when his father’s powerful hand holds his jaw open and dumps that mixture into his throat, Travis can only think of how painful his death would be. Would anyone know? Would anyone care? 

Larry might. Larry might care when it showed up on the news. No doubt, his father would make this look like a suicide. 

He sputters when the liquid slides down his throat, gagging and trying to rid himself of it, but he’s released, and he drops heavily to the ground, the burning setting in now. He tries to cry out, but he can’t get a good sound out. He clutches at his throat, gasping and sobbing out. 

“That was merely a taste, demon. Not enough to kill you. Tomorrow, I may not be so kind.” Mr Phelps takes his bible and heads back up the stairs, leaving Travis hunched over, coughing, wheezing, and gagging as he struggles to keep consciousness. 

His heart is pounding, his head is reeling, and he’s gasping for air, tasting blood as he coughs desperately. He’s petrified, tears spilling down his cheeks as he tries to get his lungs to stop seizing, to get the pain to stop. It’s still burning within him, searing him from the inside out, and Travis does the only thing he can manage.   
He screams.

\---------------------------------------

Even if he and Travis hadn’t exactly been the best of friends, Sal is worried. He knows that the breakup had been tough on Larry, of course, but he didn’t blame Travis. Sal knew how shitty the preacher was, and he can’t imagine how Travis must be right now.   
If he was even alive.

That had been weighing heavily on his mind - thinking whether or not Travis was alive. The poor kid, he’d only been trying to explore who he was, who he could be. He was happy, even if it seemed simple to someone like Sal. Travis was dyeing his hair, dressing how he wanted to, listening to music, and loving who he wanted to.   
Larry had told him about what Travis had said to him. Even if Lar wasn’t talking much to anyone these days, he’d taken to drinking instead of dealing with his own thoughts.   
Sal and Ash had been alternating days, babysitting Larry and making sure he wasn’t getting drunk at ten in the morning and then not eating, or showering. They were looking out for him, at the very least, since he wasn’t going to do it for himself. 

Sal sighs as he digs his keys out of his jeans pocket, shifting the bag of fast food to his other arm as he slides the key into the lock of Larry’s apartment, noting the lack of music blaring through the door. That could be a good sign, right?

“Hey, Larry! I’m here, I brought lunch!” Sal calls out as he nudges open the door, glancing around. It’s surprisingly clean, today, and he wonders briefly if Lisa had come by. There were no dirty clothes on the couch, no dishes or food boxes on the tables, and the television was on, but muted. Sal could hear the sound of the shower running, and he set down the bag of burgers on the kitchen table before knocking on the bathroom door, just to check.  
“Lar? It’s Sal, you good?” 

For a few moments, it’s silent, and cold dread creeps into his chest. His hand goes to the doorknob, and he turns it, only to be met with-

“I’ll be out in a sec, man! I hope you brought food, I’m starving!” 

Relief floods Sal, and he shakes his head, releasing the knob and heading back to the kitchen to wait on him. 

______________________

So maybe Larry had been leaning against the wall in the shower, dissociative and tired, the water making his obnoxiously long hair stick to his face and his back. Had he already washed himself? He couldn’t remember. Right now, all he could think of was Travis.

It was sad, crushing, and aching, but Larry was desperate for him. His heart was aching for him, his mind was reeling without him, and he was just desperate to know where and how he was. He’d gone completely off the map after he’d come over the other day, after he’d shouted at Larry, and then Lar had broken his fucking nose.

He hated himself for that. He hated that he’d laid hands on Travis, the person he’d promised to love and protect - he was no better than Mr. Phelps.   
And that is what hurt him the most in the moment. Not that Travis had yelled at him, insulted him, and thrown him away. But that Larry was the one that had hit him because he was angry, and that thought plagued him entirely.

He missed him. He missed Travis with every fiber of his being, with every breath he took. 

The promises he’d made were real. Leaving Nockfell, getting married, getting a dog - That was all real. He’d started a savings account, he’d looked at plane tickets, everything. He was gonna save him, and he’d ended up killing him instead. 

He feels sick, his stomach turning violently as he stands in the shower, but he gives himself a moment, easing back. 

Now wasn’t the time for hysterics. Now was the time for action.  
But what could he possibly do?

His chest tightens as he turns off the water and slings a towel around his waist, twisting his hair in another. He takes a breath before leaving the bathroom, shivering a little as the chilled air clung to the water droplets across his skin. 

Sal is in the kitchen, plating some greasy fast food burgers for the paid of them, and he looks up at Larry, offering a soft smile at him. It’s pitying, and Larry hates it.   
But he still smiles back, nodding lightly as he heads to his room to get dressed. 

Larry doesn’t linger in his room this time, finding that it holds too many memories, too many remnants of everything that he destroyed.   
He throws on jeans and a tee shirt, merely throwing his wet hair up into a bun before leaving his room before he can fixate on his own mind, or Travis’s shirt that was still laying in his bed, or the paintings that he’d done, with Larry teaching him.  
No, instead, he heads out to the living room, where Sal has camped out on the couch already, mask up, munching on a burger. 

“Hey, Lar.” Sal greets him with a grin, and it would be normal, if it wasn’t so obvious that he was treating him like glass. 

Larry flops down on the couch, kicking his feet up onto Sal’s lap as he grabs for the fast food bag, pulling out a burger for himself. He’s not that hungry, but he’s not about to not eat and risk those pitying looks from Sal. He’s not in the mood for it anymore. 

The most inconvenient part about having friends who actually gave a shit, was them not letting him get shitfaced and just hole himself up in his room. 

“So… I’m proud of you for showering.” The words are followed by a french fry being thrown at his face and bouncing off his forehead. Lar cocks a brow, his mouth full, so he just drops his jaw, showing off the half chewed food, like a mature adult. 

“Oh, fucking - Gross!” Sal laughs, shaking his head and looking back at the television, the news on, but muted. Lar snorts, finishing his mouthful as he watches idly. 

It’s quiet for a few moments, just the two of them sitting on the couch. It feels awkward, almost, a little cold, but Larry isn’t really paying that much attention. He’s out of it, rethinking the same situation. 

“... You really shouldn’t get so stuck in your own head, Larry Face.” Sal pats his leg lightly, glancing at him. 

“Nah, I’m… I’m not. I’m fine.” He replies, glancing down at his half eaten burger. 

“You are. I can smell the smoke from all the thinking you’re doing.” The other boy replies, and Larry rolls his eyes, glaring at him.

“Probably the smell of your upper lip, Sally Face.” Larry smirks, flipping him off playfully. 

“Go fuck yourself, Larold.” 

Larry has a retort locked and loaded, ready to snap at him, until the image on the news changes to one that’s too familiar and leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Chapel Hill - the Phelps Ministry. 

The massive, looming building was shown on the screen, advertising a recent community event that they’d hosted. There’d been a decent turnout, with children playing in the churchyard, families sitting on picnic blankets, and Phelps himself, standing there, alone. 

Larry reaches out, snatching up the remote from the coffee table before Sal can stop him, and he switches on the volume. 

“Hosting an event like this one is so important to the church, and to me, specifically. Getting together to fellowship with family is a very big part of what keeps us whole.” Kenneth Phelps in all of his vile, greasy glory was speaking, his face looking more and more like a weasel.   
Larry scoffs, his grip tightening on the remote. 

“Family is very important to me, as you know, I lost my wonderful wife several years ago, and now it’s just my son and I. He isn’t here today, but I know he’d do anything for this congregation.” 

Larry doesn’t remember getting to his feet, or throwing the remote, but when he sees the dent in the wall, and the way that Sal is up too, clutching Lar’s arm, he feels fire raging in his stomach. 

His chest is heaving, and he wants to wrench free of Sal’s grip, but he doesn’t. 

“I… I think we need to break into that house.” The blue haired boy says, and Larry is definitely surprised by that. But he’s not unhappy about it.   
He nods, taking a slow breath. 

“Yeah. We fucking do.” He pulls free, sitting down heavily.   
“Let’s call the team.” 

___________________________________________________________________

The fire that’s nestled in his stomach licks up into his throat, and Travis wishes he was unconscious again. He can’t remember when he’d begun coughing up blood, but it’s all he tastes now, the red liquid dripping down his chin, down his chest. 

His father wouldn’t relent, convinced that he could burn out whatever demon was in his mind. 

“You shouldn’t go back to sleep, kid.” 

Oh, yeah. And there was the hallucinations now. 

Sitting in the corner of the basement, not far from him, was Larry Johnson, one leg stretched out in front of him, the other pulled up so he could lean on it. He was wearing his red hoodie, and he looked just like the real one, all except the eyes.   
Larry’s eyes - the real Larry - were warm and vibrant, welcoming and sweet.   
The hallucination - the ghost - had cold and empty eyes, and they would have scared Travis, if he felt fear anymore. 

“I’m tired.” His voice sounds foreign to his own ears, rough, harsh, nearly silent. 

“I know you are. But I don’t want you to sleep. You’ve gotta fight him.” Ghost-Larry replies, standing and making his way over to him, looking up at him.   
Travis swallows hard, wishing he had tears left to cry, but he just shakes his head. 

“I’m gonna die here. I’m not getting out of here. You’re not coming for me. No one ever will.” He takes a wheezing breath, letting his head hang.   
“I wish he would just finish it. I just want to rest.” 

Ghost-Larry cocks his head, looking up with soft, somber eyes.   
“Soon. You’ll get rest soon, kid. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm part of a Sally Face Discord!!! Come join us!!  
> THIS SERVER IS AGE 16+!!! If you aren't at least 16, don't join!  
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